


Haikyuu!! Domestic Fics

by the_forgotten_daydreamer



Series: Haikyuu!! • ハイキュー!! [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Asexual Kageyama Tobio, BIsexual Takeda Ittetsu, Bisexual Azumane Asahi, Bisexual Bokuto Koutarou, Bisexual Ennoshita Chikara, Bisexual Haiba Lev, Bisexual Hinata Shouyou, Bisexual Kuroo Tetsurou, Bisexual Nishinoya Yuu, Bisexual Oikawa Tooru, Bisexual Sawamura Daichi, Bisexual Sugawara Koushi, Bisexual Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Bisexual Yaku Morisuke, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Gay Akaashi Keiji, Gay Hanamaki Takahiro, Gay Iwaizumi Hajime, Gay Kageyama Tobio, Gay Kozume Kenma, Gay Matsukawa Issei, Gay Tsukishima Kei, Gay Ukai Keishin, Gay Ushijima Wakatoshi, M/M, Mild Swearing, Non-Binary Kozume Kenma, Pansexual Shimizu Kiyoko, Pansexual Yachi Hitoka, Pansexual Yamaguchi Tadashi, contains manga spoilers of varied ''importance'', fair amount of making out here and there, pansexual Tendou Satori, read the tw at the beginning of each chapter, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 49,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26337784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_forgotten_daydreamer/pseuds/the_forgotten_daydreamer
Summary: Domestic stories focusing on my favourite Haikyuu!! pairings. Be sure to read the tags, and please, enjoy!1. KageHina2. BokuAka3. TsukkiYama4. UshiTen5. DaiSuga6. AsaNoya7. KuroKen8. IwaOi9. YamaYachi10. YakuLev11. TanaKiyo12. EnnoTana13. MatsuHana14. UkaTake15. KuroDai
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Ennoshita Chikara/Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Haiba Lev/Yaku Morisuke, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Shimizu Kiyoko/Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Takeda Ittetsu/Ukai Keishin, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi, Yachi Hitoka/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Series: Haikyuu!! • ハイキュー!! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913872
Comments: 103
Kudos: 619





	1. KageHina

**Author's Note:**

> My first work for the Haikyuu!! fandom, I'm so excited! Thank you for having me, everyone. I mostly write angst and whump, so writing fluff, domestic fics is a challenge, but I will try my very best.  
> -  
> ⚠️ I do not own Haikyuu!! nor these characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hinata: 23 years old.  
> Kageyama: 22 years old.  
> -  
> ⚠️ minor mentions of aphobia.

On that September evening, the sunset at the horizon spread into a surprisingly clear sky, hues of crimson blended with tangerine orange and pale lilac; the crisp breeze blowing from behind Miyagi's morbid hills threw the young men's already messy hair in further disarray. 

Two years. It had been two years since the last time they'd stood there together. Even when Hinata had returned from Brazil, and Kageyama had returned from Italy a— month prior— the thought of coming to that exact spot had never crossed their minds; too many memories, a reminder of the time they'd spent apart, a reminder of how far they had to stay from each other. And it had _hurt._ During those two years, they'd texted and called each other on the phone daily, and something had changed. As soon as they'd known that they were both in Miyagi, they'd spent almost every day together doing whatnot, unsaid yet obvious words lingering in the air thick with tension.

And now, there they were, standing only a couple of feet apart, closer than ever. Hinata's hands trembled around Kageyama's, the gentle hold unsteady for a moment. Hazel eyes locked onto cobalts; Hinata's lips quivered, unable to hold the truth any longer. 

He needed to say it. He needed to tell him. He needed to come clean. So, he inhaled a shaky breath, lungs squeezed and stomach knotted and twisted uncomfortably.

He opened his mouth, and closed his eyes. "Tobio, I love y—”

“No. Wait. Stop.”

And Hinata did, eyes opening suddenly, slowly, as if to understand if he’d understood correctly. Had Kageyama just… stopped him mid-confession? Had Hinata misread the situation and the setter’s intentions? A dry tongue ran over his lips, a faint attempt at rousing himself from the shock as he simply stared at the man before him. Kageyama's heart leapt in his throat, pounding incessantly as he took a shaky step back drawing away from Hinata, who had a fearful look in his eyes.

"I'm sorry.” Hinata breathed out, faintly, the realisation dawning, “I just needed to tell you, but you can ignore it. I'm— I'm sorry, Tobio. You don't—"

"N-no, wait! I love you too, Shōyō,” Kageyama clarified immediately, “it's not that. I love you, I do..." His eyes were wide, and Hinata's chest seized in excitement, though it didn't last for long as Kageyama continued. 

"B-but I… I need to talk to you before you say something you might instantly regret." Kageyama fretted, voice low and gaze fixed to his shoes. Hinata nodded, leaning over a bit while trying to get a glimpse of the setter's suddenly nervous face.

He looked panicked, Hinata noticed, which was… unusual, to say the least.

"Are you alright?" he asked, tone warm, and placed a hand on the other's shoulder, squeezing it gently. Kageyama shook his head, only barely, and muttered something unintelligible that Hinata didn't catch. Kageyama knew how unclear he'd been; the man inhaled sharply, locking his gaze to Hinata's worried one. He needed to speak now, it was only fair to Hinata, who'd always been so kind to him.

"Uh, Tobio? What's—?"

"I don't do sex." Kageyama blurted out, and pursed his lips in a thin line immediately after and squeezed his eyes shut, expecting anger to wash over Hinata and for the guy to yell.

Hinata didn't do that. The middle-blocker only blinked once, twice, and again, looking bemused.

The redhead tilted his head, and Kageyama couldn't quite read his expression.

"N-not what I was expecting after a love confession, but okay. So… You mean you don't usually have sex? Or, that you've never had it, maybe?" Hinata asked, apparent calm masking the devastating swirl of emotions raging inside his soul.

Kageyama swallowed the thick knot in his throat, mouth agape as he fumbled for words.

"No— well, yeah. Both. I don't— I just… don't want that. It's not for me. I... I don't do that. Sex, I mean. I don't think I'd like it, and I don't care for it."

After a moment of deafening silence, Hinata hummed. And Kageyama _panicked._

"I'm so sorry, Shōyō! I— I should've told you sooner, I know. I know that sex is important to you, I know you like it and _want_ it. I just— I didn't think…" he trailed off, head sagging. "I'm sorry. Honestly, I didn't even _know_ that this thing was an issue until recently. I genuinely didn't know, but this doesn't excuse me. I'm so sor—"

"No, hey! Tobio, listen." Hinata interrupted. In an unsurprisingly caring gesture, he brought his hands up and gently rubbed his callous thumbs on Kageyama's cheeks. "If you don't want to have sex, it's fine by me. Yes, I've had sex before and yes, I liked it a lot, but I like _you_ more, waaay more! I would never ask you to do something that makes you uncomfortable. Sex is secondary— no, even _less_ important than that for me. Stop apologising for being yourself!" Hinata smiled, though his gaze was fixed and absolutely serious.

"This doesn't change the fact that I want to be with you, if you'll have me." he said, tone firm yet gentle. Kageyama was at a loss of words; a choked, strangled whimper was all he could manage. Hinata flashed a warm grin, still rubbing his cheeks and never looking away.

"You just tell me what you are not comfortable with and I will respect it, no questions asked." Hinata continued, "I swear that this doesn't change anything; I still love you the exact same way, no matter what. And I would have confessed to you even if I'd known about this earlier, in case you were wondering. I love you, Tobio, I really do."

"Sh-Shōyō… Are you sure?"

"What kind of question is that, bakeyama!? 'Course I am!" Hinata grinned.

The setter felt something warm spreading across his chest, heart hammering in his ears. "Thank you. I don't know what to say. I've never— nobody's ever said that to me. They said I was..." he didn't finish that sentence. Instead, his fists curled at his sides, short nails digging into the palm, and sobbed. His face was still dry, but his desperate attempt at holding the tears back had given his face a slightly red tinge, and not just because Kageyama was flustered. Hinata waited patiently for him to continue. 

"Forget that," Kageyama hiccupped softly, "I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me, I shouldn't be sad now, should I? Sorry. I— Shōyō, I love you. Thank you for understanding."

Hinata chuckled, "Don't mind!" He let his hands stroke Kageyama's corvine hair, careful not to pull any strands. "I will _always_ be here for you." 

Kageyama nodded, still fighting the sobs, and was suddenly pulled into a tight embrace, Hinata's muscular arms pressing their bodies together. After a brief moment, however, Hinata pulled away, eyes wide and panicked, much to Kageyama's confusion. "Oh— are hugs okay? I didn't think about that, sorry." Hinata winced.

"Y-yeah, sure. Why did you even ask?"

"Because we hugged _before_ I knew about this. Maybe hugging is a no-no, too, and I just realised that you may have done it only to make me happy, and I don't want to force you. I didn't know you were ace yet, I just wanted to make sure..." Hinata explained. Kageyama nodded, a deep frown on his face, the kind of frown that had always freaked the middle-blocker out. He shuddered.

"W-what?" 

"You're making _the_ scary face!" Hinata muttered and braced himself, a fighting stance automatically modeling his body. Kageyama raised an eyebrow.

"It's… Shōyō, I'm not an ace, I'm a setter. W-what do hugs have to do with volleyball?" Kageyama asked, scratching the back of his neck.

"Eh? Tobio, that's— oh geez. Ace as in short for _asexual,_ bakeyama." Hinata stuttered. He couldn't believe how clueless Kageyama could be sometimes, but he didn't mind. More than clueless, that man was simply very naïve and unexpectedly shy, and this fact never failed to amuse and reassure Hinata, for some reason. It reminded him of the early days of their friendship, of those evenings spent in the gym practicing, of those late-nights walks on their way home, about their constant, silly bickering.

Kageyama's voice pulled him away from the trance. "Asexual?" he hummed, "Oh. I am. I think— is that the right term for what I am? Huh."

"I think it is?" it sounded more like a question, though. "We can look more into that, if you want."

"I'd— I'd like that a lot. Thanks, Shōyō. I've never— I didn't know. I mean, I looked some things up on the internet but I didn't think about it too much… I didn't think it mattered."

"It's okay, I understand! So, hugging is okay, then?"

"Yeah, I really like your hugs. They are nice. And warm. And comforting, too. Feel free to hug me whenever." Kageyama murmured, a tiny, gentle smile on his face. Hinata chuckled.

"Thank you, Tobio! I'll do my best to make my hugs be the nicest, warmest, most comforting hugs ever. And…" he trailed off, a thought flashing through his mind. _No. I shouldn't. Not yet._

"And?" Kageyama pressed, an anxious frown painted on his face.

Hinata shook his head, "N-nothing! Nevermind."

"Oi, don't do that."

"I said it's nothing, really!"

"You— dumbass. Hinata, dumbass! You can't just hint and dip!"

"A-are you sure you want me to ask? It may make you feel uncomfortable." Hinata explained, "Besides, it's a stupid question, so stupid that's worth a hundred 'Dumbass! Hinata, dumbass!' of yours." he said, pressing his own hair down on his forehead and frowning, imitating Kageyama's semi-permanent scowl as he quoted him. The latter blushed, mouth gaping.

"S-stop doing that, dumbass! Ask away, already!"

"I… Okay. B-but promise me that you won't feel bad in case this question is too personal."

"I promise," Kageyama hummed with a little eye-roll, "come on, ask that question already." 

The middle-blocker exhaled slowly, and gently grabbed Kageyama's sweaty hands, pulling them close to his own chest. He felt the warmth of them, their callus and shallow cuts, so familiar. Hinata breathed in and out, and locked eyes with Kageyama's. 

"Would it be okay if I kissed you?" he asked, voice barely a whisper, "N-not necessarily now, but eventually. It's okay if you don't like that either, seriously, I don't know why I even asked. So stupid, you don't even need to answ—"

"I— I've never done that." Kageyama blurted.

"Oh." Hinata deadpanned.

"I know, I'm twenty-two and had no first kiss yet. Don't say anything else." Kageyama exhaled, evidently blushing. Hinata's hands flew up in front of himself as he waved them, shaking his head too in a negatory gesture.

"I wasn't going to mock you, bakeyama! Let me get this straight: you've never kissed anyone at all, or..?"

"Well, I did, but only once. Truth or dare… I chose dare. And I hate losing, so… Yeah. I was fifteen, I think."

"Understandable, and so very _you._ " Hinata laughed, "Did you like that? Kissing, I mean, not truth or dare."

Kageyama shrugged, gaze low. "It was just a peck on the lips given to a girl I've never seen again after that. I don't even remember how it was. Probably below average, since I don't remember. Plus, it was with a girl… I hadn't realised that I wasn't into women, yet."

Hinata hummed. "Ah, makes sense."

"Is-is it a problem? If you want to kiss, we can, but I don't know if I'll be any good at it." Kageyama fretted, "I can learn."

"I'd like to kiss you, but if you're unsure then I won't force you." Hinata said, "And you don't need to _learn,_ really. We can wait as long as you need."

"We, huh, I mean… We can try now. I-if it's okay for you. I just— I don't know how to do that, but I _am_ curious and I feel very comfortable with you, so it's okay for me."

Hinata's heart filled with joy upon hearing the last bit; his nostrils widened, lips quivering in a proud smile. 

"Wh-why are you doing _that_ face, now!?"

"I'm just happy that you're comfortable with me!" Hinata confessed, hazel eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Kageyama's shoulders sagged in relaxation and relief.

"I thought it was obvious," he chuckled lightly, "you're the person I feel most comfortable with, dumbass." he joked.

The silence that followed was filled with unsaid words, lingering in the air, the late-summer breeze blowing gently from the south, bringing the scent of freshly mowed grass along. Hinata and Kageyama both knew that timing was essential, and yet neither could speak a word, now, scared of something deep and unknown. Losing each other, maybe, though it was a tad drastic, coming to think of it. Hinata, who was certainly the more loquacious among the two, decided to end the pause.

"Do you really feel like kissing me right now? 'Cause I do." he said, grip on the other pair of hands tightening, "But only if _you_ do."

Kageyama nodded vehemently. "I do, too! I really want to put my hands on your face and let our lips touch, because yours look soft and nice. Oh— and my hands are sweaty, like, the _good_ kind of sweaty. I think it's a sign to give it a go... Shit, I _really_ want to kiss you." Kageyama stuttered, blushing slightly and offering an awkward-looking smile, sincere nonetheless.

"That's—" Hinata couldn't suppress a snort, hand rising up to cover his grin of amusement, "that's a funny way to say it, but I get what you mean, Tobio. Even with this, you're as adorably awkward as ever. So… Are you ready?"

"Yeah? Uh. I don't… know. Just, let's do it."

"I'll stop if you tell me to, alright?"

"T-thank you."

"And if you don't like it, don't apologise, I won't mind."

"Okay, I'm r—"

"And if—"

Kageyama swung an arm around Hinata's back, pulling him close, and let his other hand hold the redhead's nape, fingers cradling the soft mane. Their noses briefly brushed against each other, breaths hitched, air impregnated with anticipation. And then, Kageyama finally erased the distance between their lips. 

The kiss was far from perfect, but neither of them cared, after all. Their teeth clanked briefly, and Kageyama had tried to slide his tongue slightly past Hinata's lips, but it wasn't as easy as he'd thought it would have been, and he ended up keeping the tongue for himself. He savoured the sweat and grapefruit chapstick on Hinata's lips, and Hinata tasted Kageyama's mint-scented breath, huffed. He stood on his toes, though Kageyama was already leaning downwards, and brought his hands up to cup the setter's face again, feeling its heat.

After what felt like an eternity, though it had been a dozen of seconds at most, they pulled apart, holding their breaths, eyes wide in awe and wonder.

"Tobio…" Hinata murmured, astonished.

Kageyama gulped, a fine tremble running through his body, down the spine, the rush of adrenaline making him jittery. He blinked rapidly, and a faint smile appeared on his face.

"Was that okay for you? T-too much?" Hinata questioned, concerned at Kageyama's lack of words.

The setter grinned, teeth barely showing, "It was... awesome. I— can we try again? If it's okay, I mean. I don't..." Kageyama inhaled, flustered as he dried his hands on the sweatpants, "I don't know how often I can ask for it. But I liked it so, _so_ much."

"You don't need to _ask_ me for a kiss, bakeyama!" Hinata laughed, patting his shoulders as Daichi used to when one of them wasn't feeling well, "Geez, loosen up! We're equal, okay? If you want a kiss, come and get it."

"O-okay. Sorry, I'm just not very used to these things," Kageyama muttered, looking at his shoes, "thank you for being so patient, Shōyō. You're good at this whole love-thingy." Kageyama admitted, honestly amazed.

Hinata's face rapidly tinged in red, as he averted his gaze and grinned, "A-am I?" he chuckled, nervous, "Can I… kiss you again, then?"

"Sure. As much as you like." 

And so he did. It was messy, but better. A slow yet passionate, sincere kiss, nothing extreme, but truly heartfelt. Kageyama smiled, as excited as a kid in front of a candy store, and Hinata was amazed at how genuinely good Kageyama's excited grin looked. He still remembered the setter's first attempt at smiling to cheer the team up, and how Hinata had seriously thought that the guy wanted to fight. He chuckled at the memory, eyeing Kageyama fondly.

And the other returned the gaze with just as much love. Still, after an instant, his expression darkened a bit, and Hinata's heart fell. Had he done something wrong?

"Tobio?" he called, "What's with that face?"

Kageyama bit his lower lip. "Is it really not a problem for you? Me not doing sex, I mean. I know that everyone wants sex at some point, and I don't want to let you down, Shōyō."

Hinata shook his head slowly, "Not _everyone_ wants to have sex, and not having it isn't a problem for me! I respect that completely and I will never feel like you let me down for _this,_ Tobio."

"So you don't... think I'm flawed?" Kageyama tried, voice low. Hinata's fists curled tightly at his sides, chest swelling up in utter, mindless anger.

"Flawed? Man— is that what _they_ told you, the people you mentioned earlier?" he seethed. Kageyama nodded.

"If I ever catch them— those bastards!" Hinata growled through gritted teeth. He shook his head, willing the anger away and focusing entirely on the man before him, soul filled with relief at the sight of those familiar cobalt eyes. Hinata inhaled and exhaled through his nose, and offered a warm smile. 

"Tobio, you're not flawed because of this. You're amazing, kind, loving, and just _yourself._ The people who told you that are jerks who've never had one good relationship in their whole lives, probably. Don't listen to them. It's me who you gotta have trust in, got it? Me."

"Right, sorry." Kageyama exhaled a light chuckle, "I trust you, Shōyō, I really do." he smiled, and leaned over, wrapping his arms around Hinata, squeezing him into a tight yet surprisingly gentle hug. He breathed into Hinata's honey-scented hair, smiling at the familiarity of it, while Hinata buried his face into Kageyama's crook of the neck, bare skin making contact, a buzz-like feeling under it. 

It felt… good. It felt like all of those times when the two of them had hugged haphazardly, without paying much attention to it, bodies crashing into each other out of excitement, mostly after a match or a tough training session. It felt like the time when Hinata had grabbed Kageyama's hand to prevent him from falling down, and ended up being dragged to the floor anyway, his body on the setter's as the latter swore and pushed him away, no real malice nor anger in his tone. It felt like the last time they'd spoken face-to-face before Hinata left for Brazil. The redhead's grip on his luggage was tight; tears streamed down his face freely, mouth blabbing about how Brazil was too, _too_ far, about how he wanted to go but wanted to stay, too, not knowing that the other man was going to leave a few months after that, too.

Kageyama had hugged him, which was strange enough, and the hold had only tightened as Hinata sobbed louder, harder, and Kageyama's chest was so tight that it hurt.

_"I'll be back. I'll b-be back, Kag-Kageyama, I swear. Wait for- for me, okay? P-promise me!"_

_"I will wait, Hinata. I k-know you will be back. I trust you."_

And he did. He'd waited. And Hinata had come back to him. He'd sworn it, and he'd kept the promise; Kageyama hadn't doubted him for a single moment. Trust had always played a fundamental role in their relationship, ever since they'd joined the Karasuno— be it while playing volleyball or not, trust was fundamental.

"I trust you." Kageyama repeated, voice deep, "I trust you, Shōyō. I always have, and always will."

Hinata nodded, still buried deep into Kageyama's neck, "I trust you too, with my whole life. I want to be with you. I want to play volleyball with you, and laugh with you, and see that cute face of yours every day, and— Tobio, I love you. I don't care about the rest, I just love you." Hinata hiccupped, convoluted emotions hard to display in any other way if not with tears. Kageyama did the same thing. And then, it clicked. Simultaneously, the two broke the embrace, eyes comically wide.

"Does this mean..?" Kageyama gasped, his mouth suddenly dry.

Hinata gulped, "W-we're..?"

"Holy shit. We're a couple." Kageyama breathed out in shock, trembling.

"We're a couple." the redhead repeated, just as shaken.

"I-I just said that, dumbass!"

"S-sorry, I'm— I don't know what to say!"

"Same here..." Kageyama trembled, "So…"

"We're a couple!" Hinata _squeaked,_ and jumped on Kageyama who caught him, skillfully, still stumbling back a few feet. The two of them were laughing, not really knowing why, but they didn't care. They were happy, finally reunited after a long, _too_ long time. And neither of them was going to leave any time soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *so* cheesy, huh?  
> -  
> ❗ Don't read and run ❗ leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed this, please. Your support means the world to me :D


	2. BokuAka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto: 27 years old.  
> Akaashi: 26 years old.  
> -  
> ⚠️ none.

Bokuto stood in front of the kitchen countertop, skillfully folding the gyōza wrappers, his tongue sticking out of his mouth a bit as he focused on the job. The rice-cooker hummed softly in the background as it boiled the rice to the right degree, and Bokuto spared the machine a look every now and then to make sure that everything was going well. He’d never been a confident cook, but since he didn’t want his husband to bear all the responsibilities just because he was at home more often than Bokuto, the latter had decided to take it upon himself to do the chores, get the groceries and prepare meals whenever he could. Even if it meant sparing Akaashi a mere little amount of work, it was enough for him.

His phone, placed on the table behind him, was blasting music, and he sang along, slightly off-key and with a heavy accent; he was wiggling his hips, tapping his foot and nodding his head as he did so. Akaashi had once told him that he looked awkwardly adorable, and Bokuto had never changed his ‘dance-moves’ ever since.

“...Feelin' like a sinner, it's so fire! With him I go ‘boo’, ooh! He said ‘you look crazy’, thank you, baby, I owe it all to you! Got me all messed up, his love is my favorite, but you plus me sadly can be dan—” 

The rice-cooker dinged, startling him a bit, and he took the rice out of it, starting to prepare some onigiri— tuna and mayo, just like his Akaashi liked them. The result was somewhat acceptable, Bokuto told himself, so he delicately placed the rice-balls on a tray, hands firm as he feared dropping them or breaking them accidentally. He picked one up and munched on it; he wanted to make sure that he wasn’t going to feed poison to his husband, but also desperately wanted a snack.

Then, Bokuto went back to the gyōza. The boiling oil made popping sounds that Bokuto wasn’t too fond of— it wasn’t too hard to understand, given his defensive stance whenever he approached the skillet, a wooden spoon drawn as if it were a sword— but that was also the indicator that he could finally drop the dumplings into the skillet. Now all he had to do was wait.

It was barely seven in the afternoon when the muffled sound of keys clanking right outside the door had Bokuto bolting toward the entrance with a wide, enthusiastic grin plastered on his face, not bothering to take the flour-soiled apron off; he stopped at the entrance step, standing on his toes and leaning forward as he held his hands behind his back. Akaashi stepped in, gaze low as he muttered a ‘I’m home.’ to himself before he realised that his husband was right in front of him.

The young editor gasped in surprise, and partially in fear: it was unusual for Bokuto to be back home before Akaashi, but since the athlete was on a break for that day, due to maintenance works in the gym, he’d decided to stay at home and surprise the man. Akaashi hadn’t been informed of that and surely wasn’t expecting to find someone else in the house.

“Kō! Shouldn’t you still be at practise?” 

The former ace crossed his arms, humming. “What happened to ‘hello, love of my life, eternal source of joy, most handsome creature to have ever inhabited this planet, my one and only’? You’re so cold, Keiji.” Bokuto teased, and Akaashi chuckled softly.

He sat down on the entrance step to take his shoes off, “I’m sorry. I was just surprised to see you here, that’s all.”

Bokuto sank to his knees and let his muscular arms go under Akaashi’s armpits and wrap themselves around his torso, pulling him close as the latter was still untying his shoes, “I missed you.” he muttered, face sinking into Akaashi’s nape, the familiar scent of pine filling his throat as he inhaled, deep.

The youngest smiled gently, though Bokuto couldn’t really see it from his position, “I was only out for half a day, Kō.”

“Still..! Did you miss me, too?”

“Of course I did. I always do.” Akaashi nodded, and turned around from his sitting position so that his and Bokuto’s faces were only a few inches apart, breaths lingering. The pro-player soon leaned over and planted a delicate kiss on his husband’s lips, who did the same, letting his arms envelop the man into a warm hug.

Bokuto pulled apart shortly after, eyes low as he gasped, “Wah! I’m sorry, I dirtied your jacket, Keiji.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Akaashi chuckled, noticing how a thin veil of flour was now covering his charcoal-gray coat, “It’s just flour, don’t worry. So, why are you home? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, me being home doesn’t depend on me. Basically, they’re doing maintenance work at the gym because some pipe-thingy broke and it was dangerous for anyone to be there,” Bokuto explained, “so I decided to stay at home for the day and surprise you! I did the chores and even watered the plants! Oh, I also paid the bills five whole days before the due date, and I shaved. Feel that, I’m smooth as a baby’s butt!” the man exclaimed, overly-enthusiastic as usual.

Akaashi brought a hand up and cupped his husband’s face, feeling the soft, golden-undertone skin under his delicate touch.

“Why’re you telling me this as if I were your mom?” he joked, “Do you want me to compliment you, _Bokuto-san?"_

Bokuto pouted, jokingly too, “Yes, _Akaaaaashi,_ I’d like you to do that very much.”

“Wait, do you mean it?”

“Eh?” 

“I’m sorry. I don’t compliment you enough, do I? Do you feel like I’m not being passionate enough? Shit, I’m so sorry, Kōtarō.” Akaashi hissed, sincerely concerned as he grabbed his husband’s shoulders and shook him slightly. He remembered Bokuto's ‘emo mode’ whenever he used to feel down and unappreciated, and he didn’t want to repeat that. Not because he was annoyed by his husband’s mood, but because he didn’t want him to feel unloved.

Akaashi truly didn’t want Bokuto to feel like he wasn’t good enough, like keeping up with him was a bother for his husband.

Bokuto chuckled at Akaashi’s sudden questions and gently shrugged his hands off, grabbing them, “Keiji, please, calm down. I’ve _never_ felt underappreciated in your company, quite the contrary. Y’know, you’re so amazing that I— seriously, I wonder how you ended up with someone like me, sometimes!” he laughed, bitter, “But I know you love me, I feel loved. And I love you too, much more than anything else in the universe.”

“E-even more than volleyball?”

“Even more than volleyball, yes!”

Akaashi cocked an eyebrow, smirking, “Even more than, huh, Kuroo?”

“Well, he’s my bro! That’s a different kind of love.” Bokuto hummed, and Akaashi laughed. He hugged his husband, the almost imperceptible height difference making it hard for any of them to comfortably curl up into the other’s chest.

Still, they always opted for placing their head on their husband’s shoulder, which was good enough. As long as they were close, it didn’t matter.

“So you seriously feel appreciated enough? You won’t go emo-mode on me?”

“Dude, stop bringing that up! I was eighteen, it was a phase, okay!? I've changed.” Bokuto blushed slightly, facing the other way. Akaashi laughed again, “I’m joking, I’m joking!” 

Bokuto relaxed in Akaashi’s hold. “Kō?”

“Yeah?”

“I ended up with ‘someone like you’ because I love you. I couldn't have picked anyone better, honestly.” Akaashi muttered softly, still buried in Bokuto’s shoulder, “If I could go back in time, I would join Fukurōdani Academy again, join the volleyball team with you— no, thanks to you, again. I would follow you everywhere, and fall for you all over again. I wouldn't change a thing, dear.”

“Keiji… You really mean that?”

“I do. Well, actually, there’s something I would change.”

Bokuto paled slightly, “And that would be..?”

“I would force you to study a bit more for that math exam you failed four times when you were just about to graduate, so that you wouldn’t have to skip practise that many times.” Akaashi teased, and Bokuto pushed him back just a bit, erupting in laughter and masking the look of betrayal.

 _"Akaaaaashi,_ you’re mean! It wasn’t my fault; it’s that the teacher was a real nitpicker who didn’t get my process. Let’s just forget about that...” he pouted. Akaashi nodded, a small smile on his face as he eyed Bokuto dreamily. That silver-dyed hair, those dark roots so peculiar, those golden eyes, that encouraging smile…

Akaashi felt like he was falling for that man all over again, and Bokuto did too. Whenever the pro-player got a glimpse of his husband’s obsidian-black mane and knowing, indigo eyes, looking at him from behind rectangle-shaped spectacles more often than not, his chest felt tight in excitement and love.

“Listen, huh, do you have anything to do tonight?” Bokuto asked, gulping softly. Akaashi’s gaze softened as he nodded, grave, a sad sparkle in his dark eyes.

“Sadly, yeah. I must finish that project for work, and I need to turn it in tomorrow, so… I’m pretty busy.”

“Ah, I understand. Sorry, Keiji.”

“No, I am. I would love nothing more than to cuddle with you tonight, but I need to work, willy-nilly.”

“I—” Bokuto chuckled, scratching the back of his head as he averted his gaze and blushed, “Well, I wasn’t thinking about _cuddles,_ in all honesty, but it’s fine. We’ve got a lifetime to stay together, I don’t mind waiting.” he exhaled. Akaashi’s hug tightened, his head sinking further into Bokuto’s shoulder. 

“We should both take a week off for ourselves, huh?”

“Yeah, I agree. The Golden Week isn’t too far away, right? Only a month or so.” Bokuto hummed to himself, “Maybe we can go somewhere nice and rest.”

“What about practise?”

“I just need to work out a couple of hours per day and I’ll be fine. I won’t forget how to play in the meantime, babe.”

“You did forget how to hit a cross-spike, though.” Akaashi said, no real tease behind his voice, but only sincere concern. He didn’t want his husband to be kicked off the team because of him, and that’s why he’d always insisted on taking care of the house, much to Bokuto’s complaints who didn’t listen to him anyway, in that case.

“I did, but just because I hadn't done that in _months."_ Bokuto explained, a frown on his face, “A week off is what I need. We may go to a resort that has a gym, so that I can go there and still work out, as long as you come with.”

“Me? I’m not in shape like I used to be…” Akaashi said, “I can work out, but I’m nowhere near your level. I play rarely, and I do that for fun. I’d only slow you down, Kō.”

He surely didn’t expect Bokuto to laugh, “Man, you are way too serious sometimes. It’s fine, I don’t care if I won’t be able to train like I usually do for five days. Keiji, my love, you _really_ need to relax and don’t overthink this much, for your own good.”

“I can’t help it,” Akaashi shrugged, grinning shyly, “you know I worry.”

“I worry too, but there are times when worrying is not needed. Take a deep breath and smile, Keiji! Do it for your _Bokuto-san.”_ he said, mimicking his husband’s voice as he said the name. Akaashi laughed, nodding. It was true, he worried too much. Bokuto had always tried to make him feel at ease, to reassure him, but there had been times before their marriage when the editor had doubted that Bokuto himself believed his own words, letting his insecurities and anxiety trick him into thinking that he was a bother, that Bokuto was lying.

Luckily enough, Akaashi’d learnt to understand when the pro-player was lying, and he didn’t do that often either.

When he did, it was mostly a white-lie told to lighten the mood or not make Akaashi worry too much, though the latter always insisted that, in quality of his husband, worrying for him was natural. Neither of them had ever lied about their feelings, about how much they cared for the other.

Bokuto leaned forward again, eyes fluttering close as he readied himself for a kiss. He didn’t expect Akaashi to place a hand on his mouth and push him back delicately. The taller man heard a sniffing sound and opened his eyes, panicked. “Keiji! Babe! Don’t cry!”

“I’m not.” Akaashi said, and he wasn’t, truthfully, “I just— Kōtarō, did you perhaps leave something on the stove?” he asked. Bokuto sniffed the air as well, and it took a couple of seconds for the burning smell to register on his palate. He threw his head back, groaning, and bolted away toward the kitchen, arms flailing clumsily at his sides. Akaashi was right behind him, though he didn’t look as frightened, and peeked from behind Bokuto’s broad shoulders. He watched his husband slip the bright-green oven mitts on and gingerly approach the skillet, a terrified look in his eyes as he shrieked and cowered in fear.

Akaashi exhaled, halfway through amused and mortified, and shook his head slightly, “I distracted you, it’s my fault.”

“N-no, not at all! Shit, I should’ve at least lowered the heat before coming to get you. Gah, shit!”

“Shh, it’s okay, dear. M-maybe the gyōza are still edible, don’t wor—” Akaashi asked, and got his answer when he took a good look at one of them; it was entirely burnt, crisp beyond repair. That was _definitely_ not edible.

“I don’t think we can eat these, Keiji.” the pro-player murmured, visibly upset as he eyed what was once a delicious pork dumpling.

“Yeah, me neither. Sorry for this, Kō. I bet that they would’ve tasted delicious.” he reassured, gently rubbing his husband’s back in a soothing manner. Bokuto looked behind his shoulder and right at Akaashi, and hinted a tiny smile, “I dunno about that, I’m not that good at cooking. Fuck, I ruined dinner…” he said, head sagging. Akaashi was about to speak, but his husband’s face lit up suddenly as he turned around, pointing somewhere next to them, “Luckily, I made onigiri as well, so we don't have to order pizza this time.”

Akaashi smiled, looking at the table where a dozen of onigiri laid on a tray, “Are those—?”

“Homemade tuna and mayo onigiri, courtesy of the amazing Bokuto Kōtarō.” Bokuto said, chest swelled up in pride, “They may not taste as good as the convenience store’s, or Miya's, but they _are_ edible. I tried one to be sure before you arrived.” he laughed, “Do you want to have dinner now, or would you rather wait?”

“I’m going to take a shower first, if that’s okay for you.”

“Ah, I might as well join you, then…” the pro-player winked, scooting closer.

“As much as I hate to say this, I really don’t have time for _that_ tonight. Sorry.” Akaashi rolled his eyes, grinning in amusement.

“Ow c’mon! I wouldn’t make it last too long, I sw— oi! Stop laughing, that’s n-not what I meant! Keiji, you bastard!” Bokuto growled, Akaashi laughing so hard that he had tears in his eyes. The pro-player pouted, “You know what, _Akaashi,_ go take that shower. I will gladly stay here and boil some veggies,” Bokuto scoffed, jokingly upset at his husband’s mockery, “I don’t need your love, I have these onigiri which are the thing I am most proud of. Come to think of it, I think I’ll eat them all while you’re gone.” 

“Oh, is that so? Then I shall take a long, long relaxing bath and then head to bed instead of finishing my work or doing anything else. And you will know that if you’d acted differently, I would’ve joined you instead.” he hummed, a sadistic glimpse in his eyes.

Bokuto shook his head, hands joint in prayer as he chuckled but pretended to act serious nonetheless, “Wah, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Keiji. Please, go take that shower and come back to me afterwards. I will wait as long as you need. Forgive this foolish man before your eyes!"

Keiji chuckled again, and grabbed Bokuto’s shirt’s collar, delicately pulling him closer. Lips lingered close before they were shortly-after brought together, the familiar taste of each other savoured by the two men as they kissed. Bokuto let his hands slide down and grab Akaashi's bony hips, and the latter hand's went toward the opposite direction, cradling Bokuto's gelled hair and rubbing the scalp delicately, fingers knowing exactly where to go.

After seven years of relationship, two and a half of which spent as an officially married couple, they knew each other's tastes and soft-spots well, and there was no secret between them.

Bokuto started to delicately push the editor toward the living room and down on the light-brown tatami, the latter obliging, already knowing what was happening. Bokuto was on top of him as the kiss got more and more greedy, hands moving up and down each other's body. Akaashi pulled away, fanned.

“Kō, I need to go. Please.”

“I know, I know.” Bokuto muttered, not moving an inch.

“Then get off me." he chuckled.

“Do I _really_ have to..?”

“How about I take a shower, we eat dinner, and then cuddle after I finish working on that project? I should be done around eleven tops.” Akaashi suggested. Bokuto frowned, squinting.

“I hate that you have to work at home.”

“So do I, but it won't be for long.”

“Really?”

“Well, I hope so. You know how I applied for that job at the literature department of that one company I told you about? Well, I have an interview on Tuesday, but things are looking good, and I'm positive they'll hire me there.”

Bokuto beamed, mouth agape, “Keiji, I didn't know about the interview! Congrats, babe! B-but why didn't you tell me? Geez, I would've cooked something better and bought the good booze if I'd known sooner…”

“It's just an interview and mine are simple suppositions,” Akaashi explained, fixing the glasses on his nose, “let's not get our hopes too high for now. We can celebrate if I actually get that job, okay?” he finished, and kissed Bokuto once more before squirming under the other man, signaling him to move over. Bokuto did, and sat on the tatami as he watched the other man smile at him one last time before disappearing toward the upper floor, finally going to take that shower.

When Akaashi came back about fifteen minutes later, dressed in fresh pajamas and with his hair still damp, he found the table already set; Bokuto was busy placing the boiled vegetables into the small bowls, and gasped when he felt a hand patting his back.

“Keiji! Don't scare me like that, I have a weak heart.”

“Sorry, Kō, I didn't mean to startle you.” Akaashi smiled, sitting down in front of the table, “Hey, this smells delicious.”

“Thanks! I added some spicy pepper to see if I could make boiled veggies taste less bland," the other replied, smiling gently, “ah, I was also thinking about where to go during the Golden Week.” he said, sitting down across Akaashi.

“Any ideas?”

“Well, ryokan don't usually have gyms, so I was thinking about a more modern hotel. We might also go to Korea while we're at it.”

“Korea?" Akaashi parroted, shocked, “That'd be nice, but isn't that too far and excessive for Golden Week?”

“Hey, we've been saving up money for a while and we deserve to go on vacation. If you agree on going, I’m going to see what I can find tomorrow.”

Akaashi nodded, chewing on his second onigiri— just like Bokuto, he was the polar opposite of someone defined as a slow-eater. “I’d love to visit Korea, I haven’t been there yet.”

“So it’s okay for you? We can also stay here in Tōkyō if you don’t want to go. I didn’t mean to sound so insistent,” Bokuto said, “like, seriously, as long as we relax together, I don’t mind the destination.”

“Neither do I, but Korea sounds interesting, so if you want to go, we can.” Akaashi reassured, “After all, as you said, we deserve some time off, far from everything and everyone. It’d be nice.”

“The ‘far from everything and everyone’ part has never left my mouth,” Bokuto chuckled, a hand in front of his mouth to prevent him from spitting the egg-plant and peppers he was eating, “but alright, Korea it is, then!”

Akaashi smiled again, eyeing his husband softly. Despite the looks of it, Bokuto was extremely considerate, much more than Akaashi himself, if he had to admit. He knew that Bokuto didn’t even notice that, because he’d always considered Akaashi’s silences and shyness as parts of him, which made him beautiful anyway. Truth his, he’d begun to open up a lot more recently, and though Akaashi knew that he was never going to become as extroverted as his husband, he also acknowledged how Bokuto had been trying to be less loud in public to avoid embarrassing Akaashi, not that the young editor really minded him being slightly noisy.

“Keiji.”

“What?”

“Ah, you tell me. You’ve been staring at me for a solid minute. Do I have something on my face?” Bokuto asked, a hand flying up to search for whatever chunk of food was soiling his cheeks and chin. Akaashi shook his head, exhaling softly, “I was just thinking about you.”

“Nice things, I hope!”

“Of course. Kōtarō, I love you.”

“I love you too, Keiji. I love you so much.”

They ate the rest of the dinner exchanging only a few words, but compensating with dense looks impregnated with love. The almost-silence might have been considered uncomfortable by someone else, but to them, it was the epitome of perfection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BokuAka is my drug. I have so many things I want to write on these two (but in general, on every Haikyuu!! pairing) ;-; but so little time. Also yes, Bokuto listens to BLACKPINK, Furudate told me that in person...  
> -  
> Ryokan = traditional Japanese inn.  
> -  
> ❗ Don't read and run ❗ leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed this, please. Your support means the world to me :D


	3. TsukkiYama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yamaguchi: 18 years old.  
> Tsukishima: 18 years old.  
> -  
> ⚠️ a tiny bit of emotional angst.

Winter rain poured outside, pattering delicately against the kissaten’s windows; the sun was hidden behind thick, heavy clouds, yet some timid sunrays still managed to penetrate and peek through, brightening that gloomy day in the slightest. Yamaguchi was chatting lively, but low, as Tsukishima nodded and hummed, not speaking much more than monosyllabic words and responses. It’s not like he was uninterested; but he liked Yamaguchi’s voice too much to interrupt him. Not that he had ever said it out loud. Suddenly, they simultaneously noticed the waiter approaching out of the corner of their eye. 

“Tadashi?” Tsukishima called, knowingly.

“I-I can do it.” the freckled boy nodded, flashing a not-so confined grin towards his friend.

“Hello. What can I get you today?” the waiter asked, looking at Tsukishima first.

“I’ll have a strawberry milkshake with double whipped cream, please.”

“Alright. And you, sir?” the waiter asked, eyeing Yamaguchi with a friendly smile. He gulped, gaze shying away. _Not this again… F-fuck, I can’t, I_ —

Tsukishima cleared his throat, capturing the waiter’s attention once again, “He’ll have a vanilla shortcake and some green tea, thank you.”

“Got it. I’ll be right back with your orders!” the waiter chirped, tablet close to his chest as he bowed slightly and left the table, trotting away. Yamaguchi scratched the back of his neck, nervous, “S-sorry, Tsukki. I thought I could do that, but… I kinda p-panicked.” he stuttered, adding a choked chuckle, blushing slightly as he lowered his gaze. 

The other boy nodded, fixing the glasses on his nose. He eyed his friend, grave. “One, stop calling me that, Kei’s fine. Two, you can’t keep being this shy forever, Tadashi. It’s going to get harder once you start uni, because there _will_ be strangers there.”

“Th-there’s still half a year until uni starts,” Yamaguchi replied, gaze fixed on the hands folded on his lap, concealed from Tsukishima’s sight, “I’m really trying. I… I’m just nervous. Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Tsukishima said, tone firm and harsh, “I’m saying this for you. I’m not mad, Tadashi.”

Yamaguchi blushed further, a fine trembling running through his body. Everything about Tsukishima’s voice indicated quite the contrary, to be fair. The blond watched silently as the young pinch server nervously tugged and pulled his sleeves further down his wrists and hands, a leg bouncing under the table frantically. Despite everything, Yamaguchi had grown, he’d matured: before high school, he would have never dared go to a bar, not even when surrounded by people he knew well, but because of the utterly chaotic energy of the fellow Karasuno players, he’d had to adapt and overcome his insecurities. Still, Tsukishima could see how that wasn’t nearly enough for Yamaguchi to be at ease and live almost normally. Still, he trusted he would have learnt with time, and love. And he was willing to give him both, though everything was still new to him as well.

Yamaguchi Tadashi, the boy he’d met in elementary school, the boy that he had introduced to volleyball, the boy he’d spent middle school and highschool with, always together for better or worse; they’d seen each other best and worst moments; the downfalls, the breakdowns, the phonecalls at two in the morning when one of them couldn’t sleep for a number of reasons, but also the joy, the laughter, the silly jokes and puns— this had all happened for a happy coincidence, and neither of them could have been more grateful.

Yamaguchi noticed how silent Tsukiyama had gone, and his breath hitched in the back of his throat, just loud enough to be heard from the other side of the tiny, square table. “Are you really not m-mad at me?”

“I’m just concerned. I know that you have the courage to talk to strangers, but _you_ don’t believe it and I don’t like it. I mean, you are the Captain, I thought you'd have a bit more confidence by now.”

“I do, I got way better at that in the meantime! But I still _can’t_ talk to others, you know that." Yamaguchi gasped, hands now on the table, though his eyes were still low, “Whenever I try to do that, I always mess up and feel sick afterwards. It’s… it’s not my thing— people I don’t know are not my thing, I can’t befriend them. Even on the court, I’ve never spoken to anyone other than our teammates. Well, maybe the referees and captains before a game, but... It's different. I-I don’t do good with strangers, I never have. I try, but I can't.”

Tsukishima clicked his tongue, not annoyed, but rather disapproving. The blond moved his hands and grabbed Yamaguchi’s warm ones, the boy jolting slightly at the presence; the hold was tight, grounding. “You did that, once. You came and talked to me, remember? You came to talk to me while I was at practise. It was... Friday, I think, and you came to me because you wanted to join a sports club.” Tsukishima stated, “That’s how we became friends. It was thanks to you, and I’m grateful for it.” His tone didn’t indicate that he was feeling any particular emotion, but he truly wished that Yamaguchi could feel the kindness and support in his words. He hoped he would.

“Y-you actually remember that? I always thought I’d annoyed you into becoming my friend.” Yamaguchi said, eyes wide, “Actually, it was m-my mom who t-told me to come to you. I told her about what you’d done, like, without mentioning the bullying… and she told me to give it a try.” he laughed, “I came home with those bruises and she was worried, b-but I told her I’d tripped and that this other kid that was there had decided to help me out. I remember her saying ‘Find him, thank him, and be his friend! He sounds like a good child.’ and that’s what happened. Blame her for my annoying presence always tagging along.” he spoke calmly, laughing.

Tsukishima breathed out through his nose, a brief, faint grin on his pale face. “I’m happy she told you to do that.” His face darkened, “But you’ve never annoyed me during these years. Get that in your head already, I’ve said it plenty of times.” The last sentence bore a harsher tone than intended. Yamaguchi didn’t seem to mind— during those long, long years of friendship he’d learnt how to distinguish between real anger and simple frankness, which overlapped more often than not. 

“Th-thanks, Tsukki— I mean, Kei.” he corrected himself, “Still, ‘Tsukki’ is such a cute nickname, I can’t stop using it! Allow me to use it, please.”

“You invented it, it’s not fair to dub it ‘cute’. You sound too presumptuous.”

Yamaguchi cocked an eyebrow, grinning, “Can’t you say ‘cocky’ like everyone else? ‘Presumptuous’ sounds old.” he clicked his tongue, snorting and immediately regretting the action, looking around frantically to see if he’d drawn any attention. He hadn’t.

“Presumptuous is the right word, though.”

“Fine, fine.” Yamaguchi pouted, jokingly, “I think I’ll change from Tsukki to Mister Dictionary, actually. Yeah, yeah. I definitely will.”

Tsukishima gasped softly, shaking his head, “Are you even taking my given name into consideration? I’m not calling you ‘Freckles’, after all, but I could.”

“You’ve _never_ called me ‘Freckles’, it wouldn’t be the same..!” Yamaguchi argued, laughing, “Besides, only bullies used to call me that. Are you a bully?”

“Some would say so.” Tsukishima admitted, “But never to you.”

Blood rapidly flowed to Yamaguchi’s head as he looked away, “I don’t know if I should be flattered that you’re so considerate with me, or concerned that you actually bullied some poor people.”

“Only Hinata and Kageyama.” Tsukishima corrected, “Besides, I stopped last year. I still think they’re idiots, though.”

Yamaguchi chuckled, nodding. It was true, those two were certified idiots, but in a good way. And even though Tsukishima was never going to admit it with all probabilities, he knew that he would have missed their silly bickerings, yells and pranks, at some point. Neither of them could imagine their lives without the team: those people they’d known since the first year had become their second, utterly chaotic family, and leaving them was certainly going to hurt. Only Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Hinata, Kageyama and Yachi were left, now, the others already in university, or traveling around the world. It was just them, now. Leaving Karasuno Volleyball Club to the first and second years wasn’t something that Tsukishima was particularly fond of, but it had to be. Hinata, Yamaguchi and Yachi had been the best senpai, teaching the kōhai their special moves and tactics, and how to be one with the others; Tsukishima and Kageyama stood slightly aside, but still helped as they could. Nobody doubted that the kōhai were going to do great things, one day.

“...re’s your orders. Enjoy your meal!” the waiter chirped suddenly, placing the food on the table and bowing slightly, before heading away. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi jolted a bit, and looked at each other, blinking in amusement as they understood that neither of them had heard the waiter come. 

“They could’ve robbed us without us noticing!” Yamaguchi chuckled, “What were you thinking about? You looked pensive.” he muttered, sliding the little plate closer and taking a bite of the shortcake. Tsukishima gulped the first sip of his milkshake down, fine lips wrapped around the tip of the straw elegantly. He shrugged, nodding his chin toward his friend, “What about you?”

“Just, stuff… Listen, Kei, do you… Do you know what you’re going to study in uni already?” Yamaguchi asked, “And, like, where you want to study, too.”

“I’m applying to Tōhoku Imperial University, Geology and Paleontology Department. And you?”

“Tōhoku Institute of Technology.”

“Oh. Electronics Department, I suppose?”

“Yeah, that.” Yamaguchi nodded, “Do you think it’s the right choice? I don’t think I could study anything else, to be honest. The other things involve too much… human interaction, I’m afraid. And I’m good with electronics and stuff, I might be a decent student.”

Tsukishima exhaled softly, “Tadashi, if you feel like it’s the right choice, then do it. I think that you’ll do good, were you to pick that faculty, but you have to decide for yourself.” he said, mindlessly playing with the straw.

“So… We’re both staying here in Miyagi, huh?”

“I guess so.” Tsukishima shrugged, failing to hide a smile. If he had to be honest, he was glad that Yamaguchi wasn’t going to study somewhere else. He certainly didn’t want to hold him back just because of their relationship, but at the same time, if he had to be selfish, Tsukishima was glad that Yamaguchi was still going to be within a short distance; even if they were _just_ friends, the concept did not change. “It’s a good thing.” the middle blocker added, since he knew how blunt he’d sounded.

“If we both get in, we could meet to have lunch together, sometimes!” Yamaguchi exclaimed, “We could visit Karasuno too, it shouldn’t take too long to go there by train.”

“Sounds good. It only takes an hour and a half at most,” Tsukishima pointed out, “so that you can see your kōhai again.” 

“Tsukki, they’re yours, too.”

“Back to ‘Tsukki’, huh?”

“Ah, sorry, it slipped.” Yamaguchi laughed, bowing his head slightly, “But seriously, you’re their senpai as well, Kei. They respect you and they like you, guaranteed.”

Tsukishima cocked an eyebrow, doubtful, “It doesn’t look like they like having me around much.”

“That’s because you’re, huh, _slightly_ intimidating! But you taught them so many things in these two years, and those kōhai cherish our teachings. You’re important to the team, Kei, and we all like you.” Yamaguchi exhaled softly, whispering the words that flowed like a stream down a morbid hill. Freckled hands gingerly, slowly, oh-so timidly made their way across the table, and placed themselves onto Tsukishima’s, touch feather-light; their fingers brushed delicately, an intimate gesture that neither of them would have thought of a few months prior. Honey eyes met emeralds, longing for more. 

Before he could stop himself, Yamaguchi leaned closer, over Tsukishima’s face, who didn’t bear the usual stoic expression— he’d never seen him like that, but now, he didn’t have enough self-control to even notice that. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost, eyes blown wide open, mouth pressed in a thin line; he looked… scared. And Yamaguchi simply leaned closer and closer, hoping for Tsukishima to stop him, to yell at him, to push him away, to ask him what _the actual fuck_ he was thinking. But he didn’t. Noses brushed against each other, lips close, soft and buttered in chapstick; their knees touched, Tsukishima’s long legs uncomfortably squeezed under the short table even before the sudden contact. The blond’s lower lip quivered, a hot puff of air blown onto Yamaguchi’s, the scent of sugary strawberry lingering. 

“W-what are you doing?” Tsukishima breathed out, dizzy. His chest felt heavy, and his head felt lighter than ever; suddenly, it was hard to inhale properly. His sweaty hands clenched and unclenched under Yamaguchi’s gentle hold, and the latter seemed to be stunned, awestruck. His mouth was slightly agape, lips trembling almost imperceptibly, elongated pupils glued to Tsukishima’s. 

The pinch server jerked away, hands moving close to his own chest in tight fists, hissing as if he’d been scalded, lungs seizing uncontrollably. The pained expression on his face was something that Tsukishima hoped to never, ever see again. “I—”

“F-fuck, sorry. Holy shit, Tsukki. I didn’t mean— I don’t— I shouldn’t have done that!” he practically yelled, shooting up from his seated position, hands still cradled to his panting chest.

“T-Tadashi—?”

“S-sorry.” Yamaguchi said, and bolted toward the kissaten’s bathroom. The waitress who was serving the adjacent table spared him a concerned look, and turned to Tsukishima once she’d finished with the other clients. “Is he alright? Can I get him anything?” she asked, voice warm. She glanced at the bathroom’s door and for that, Tsukishima was grateful. Despite the glasses, he knew that teary eyes were still visible behind those. He didn’t even know why he was tearing up.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll go get him. Actually, may I get the check first, please?” he asked. She nodded and left, and Tsukishima rapidly picked his and Yamaguchi’s bags up. He followed the waitress to the counter, paid the bill, and headed for the bathroom— apparently, the waitress had already explained the situation. 

There were only three stalls, two of which were evidently unoccupied. The one in the furthest corner was locked up, but Tsukishima could hear no sound coming out of it. He stopped in front of the door, a hand hesitantly hovering close to it, indecisive. Finally, he knocked. “Tadashi?”

“G-go ‘way, Tsukki.” came Yamaguchi’s voice, hiccupping and wet.

“Open the door.”

He waited, but no responde came. Tsukishima tried to gently shake the doorknob, attempting to pry the door open, to no avail. “Tadashi, come on.” he insisted, but only whimpers echoed in the bathroom, now, and worry churned his guts, twisting and knotting. 

Yamaguchi’s intestines were in a similar condition, and everything was only worsening. His whole body ached immensely, a sharp pain spreading across his chest as he struggled to keep quiet; he didn't want Tsukishima to hear him like that, to see him like that. _Not again._

“Yamaguchi, open up.” Tsukishima called, hoping that using the last name would convince the freckled boy to obey. And it did, after half a minute. Yamaguchi was sitting with his back against the wall, knees drawn close to his chest, head buried in between as he trembled and whimpered silently. “Ts-Tsukki, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I sh-shouldn’t have dared...” he hiccupped, voice muffled, “I d-don’t want you to think I’m weird, I don’t w-want to ruin our- our friendship, I’m sorry, pl-please forget ab-about this.”

“Tadashi, calm down.” Tsukishima tried, but when Yamaguchi shook his head vehemently it was pretty much clear that he wasn’t really listening just yet. The blond kneeled down, not caring that his knee was touching the stall’s floor— it was clean, but it was still a stall, and who knew what had been done in there; Tsukishima gently placed a hand on Yamaguchi’s shoulder, feeling the distinct trembling, and spoke again, voice as non-threatening and warm as he could physically manage. “You just… caught me off guard, I guess. Stop crying already— if you can.” he corrected himself, realising how the last bit sounded more like an order than a genuine suggestion for his friend’s wellbeing. _Friend._ That’s what they were, right? _Still_ friends. _Only_ friends. 

“I tr-tried to kiss you.”

“Yes, you did.” Tsukishima hummed.

Yamaguchi sniffled, raising his gaze for the first time, “Aren’t y-you gr-grossed out?”

“No.”

“Ts-Tsukki…”

“Kei.”

“R-right, Kei, sorry.” the pinch server apologised, eyes low once again. Tsukishima really didn’t like how cowardly Yamaguchi acted in front of him. Didn’t he understand that they were equal? Didn’t he understand that he was _cool?_ Didn’t he understand that he _liked_ him? Maybe, Tsukishima thought, he hadn’t realised it himself, either; he’d never thought of the possibility. 

Tsukishima wasn’t the kind of person to like others; he’d had trust issues since he was a kid, he’d always struggled to blend in, to be at ease around the others, so he knew how the freckled boy constantly felt. Yet, his aversion in other people’s regards was quite different: instead of shying away, instead of seeking a safe-spot, he’d created one for himself. The blond had always tried to establish a certain sort of dominance, a wall more impenetrable than Datekō’s between him and the others, a wall that he’d inadvertently let Yamaguchi breach. He didn’t regret that one bit.

So, he brought a hand forward, gentle, and placed it under Yamaguchi’s trembling chin, the little wrinkles forming under the bottom lip deep craters rocked back and forth by the earthquake in his heart. The pinch server held his breath, which wasn’t easy, given the fact that he’d been crying incessantly for almost five minutes now— he was out of breath, drained. 

“I’m not mad, Tadashi. It’s fine.”

“But… I did _that._ I didn’t even ask you, I just did. I shouldn’t have d-done that, I shouldn’t have kis—” the word died on his tongue, rolling back down his throat uneasily. He didn’t want to mention that again in front of Tsukishima, he was lucky enough that the blond hadn’t just left him there alone to weep.

Tsukishima placed the other knee down, hands back on them, as he tried to catch Yamaguchi’s unsteady gaze, “I said it’s okay, I get it. Now let’s get out of this stall, it’s awkward.”

“I d-don’t want to. You can go, I just— I want to stay here for a bit. I’ll see you tomorrow in class, Kei.” he murmured, gaze now fixed to the toilet. Tsukishima sighed, but didn’t move one bit. He just kneeled there, knee brushing against Yamaguchi’s shoe, gaze low. 

“I didn’t hate it.”

“Wh-what?”

“The almost-kiss, I didn’t hate it.” Tsukishima explained, “It could’ve been worse.”

Yamaguchi laughed, despite himself, “Is th-that a compliment?”

“I guess so.” the blond shrugged, “I didn’t know you were gay, though. Are you?”

Tsukishima swore he’d never seen anyone become so red in a split second, and actually realised how direct and intrusive he’d just been. “I’m sorry, that was too personal.”

“N-no, no, it’s fine, it’s only fair that y-you ask. I’m, huh, I’m actually p-pan.” Yamaguchi stuttered, not meeting Tsukishima’s penetrating gaze, “I- I’m sorry I n-never told you.”

“You didn’t have to, it’s not like you have to tell me anything.”

“It still w-wasn’t right to hide it from you.”

“You didn’t hide it, it just… It’s not a topic that we’ve ever focused on.” Tsukishima corrected, “And even if you’d lied to me about it, I wouldn’t have minded. It’s none of my business.”

Yamaguchi squinted, “You are _really_ unbothered by this, aren’t you?”

“I guess. It’s not a big deal.” Tsukishima said, “In a good way, that is. I don’t mind you being pan. I still like you, Tadashi.”

“Thanks, Kei, I like you too. Your support means a lot to— wait, wait.” Yamaguchi stopped. He blinked a couple of times, pupils fixed up as he fiddled with his fingers, mouthing words that remained unsaid. His eyes were comically wide as he looked at the middle blocker, mouth agape.

“You like me _like_ me or you _like_ me like me..?”

“What even is the difference between those?”

“Tsukki, you know what I mean!”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, taking his glasses off and cleaning them with the hem of his cotton shirt, “I’m not good at this, and I don’t know how to phrase it better, so I’ll tell you like this: Tadashi, I like you in a romantic way.” he stated, simple as that. Yamaguchi looked even more confused now, head slightly tilted. “Tsukki, are you… gay?”

“I am.” he nodded, “I think I realised it about...” he glanced at the watch around his slim wrist, “...ten minutes ago.”

“Wait, you didn’t know?”

“No. I’ve never liked anyone else like that. At all.” Tsukishima shrugged, “So, apparently, I’m gay.” Yamaguchi admired his boldness, but he didn’t hide the fact that his apparently unbothered behaviour was sometimes unsettling. Still, it certainly wasn’t the time to point it out.

“So… you’re gay, and you like me.”

“And you’re pan, and you like me, too.” Tsukishima said, “So… You want us to become a couple, or what?”

“Tsukki, you’re way too blunt!” Yamaguchi blushed, flustered, shaky hands flying up to cover his face.

“Is that a… no?”

“No, no, I want that. I want to be your boyfriend, Tsukki, I do. I just... never took you for the type of guy who’d ask it like _that!”_ he said, shaking his head, face still buried.

Tsukishima cocked an eyebrow, “It’s easier to get to the point.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right, Tsuk— Kei. God, I called you ‘Tsukki’ so many times in the past minutes... I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind. Call me whatever.” 

“R-really?”

“Yes. Tsukki does sound cute, like you said earlier.” the middle blocker hummed, “Can we just get out of here, though? It’s cramped. And it smells like piss and disinfectant.” he added, a hint of disgust in his tone as he eyed the loo. “Are you okay to walk?”

Yamaguchi nodded frantically, getting up on shaky legs; he dragged his sleeve on his face, trying to dry the tears and the snot, “I l-look gross.”

“You’ve been crying, nobody expects you to look any different.” he said, “I still like you, even if your nose’s dripping right now.”

“I’ll w-wash my face!” Yamaguchi said, and immediately bolted toward the small, low sink, washing his face with cold water. Tsukishima fiddled with his own bag, and handed him a clean handkerchief he’d taken out of the washing machine that morning, “Use this, the paper towels will only scratch your face.” 

“Thanks, Tsukki.” Yamaguchi said. He brought the cloth near to his face, and allowed himself to take a whiff of ocean-breeze fabric softener, savouring the scent that was so familiar to him, the scent that lingered on Tsukishima’s clothes, always.

“Are you okay? Can we go?”

“Y-yeah, let’s go. Oh, wait! Give me a sec, I need to pay my bill first. Let me—”

“I already paid, let’s just leave.”

Yamaguchi halted on his tracks, “Tsukki, why did you do that? Wait, let me give the money back to you! How much was it? Hang on, I have a couple of ¥500 coins somewhere here in my pockets! Wait, I think I got them—” he screeched, fiddling with his pants, tongue sticking out.

Tsukishima sighed, heavy, and grabbed the other’s wrist, delicately, “No need to. Consider this as a first date.”

“B-but, Tsukki..!”

“People are going to think that we died in this bathroom, we’ve been here forever.” he said, and walked away, holding the door open for his _boyfriend._ Just thinking about the word made his skin crawl in excitement and partial fear; it was new, but… pleasant.

Yamaguchi timidly walked over, and then they left, apologising for making the staff worry and bowing on their way out. The pinch server didn’t expect for Tsukishima to reach for his hand and hold it gently, but he surely didn’t pull away, nor flinch in the slightest when that happened. The rain had stopped pouring at some point during their talk in the bathroom, and the air was crisp and fresh, the smell of petrichor and wet asphalt tickling their noses gently. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay. Life is kicking my ass and writing fluff is hard right now, but I'll keep trying. I'm sorry.  
> -  
> you may have noticed I use Japanese words for typical Japanese things, and that I don't put the 's' to make them plural: that's because singular and plural nouns in Japanese don't change. If anything ever confuses you, don't hesitate to ask.  
> -  
> it took me ten precious minutes to research the info about their universities and everything so please notice me readers *do not read in moe voice, I beg you*  
> -  
> -  
> Yamaguchi and Tsukishima's universities are something like 20min away by bus.  
> -  
> ¥500 = 4€ = $4,80 = £3,70 (circa).  
> -  
> clients don't bow at the employees, they don't even have to say hello according to the etiquette, but if you think that's going to stop my Italian ass from thanking and apologising constantly then you are damn wrong.  
> -  
> ❗ Don't read and run ❗ leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed this, please. Your support means the world to me :D


	4. UshiTen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ushijima: 26 years old.  
> Tendō: 26 years old.  
> -  
> ⚠️ sickfic, but nothing graphic because these are all fluff fics.

Sleep. 

That’s all Tendō wished for, now. The previous night, cold and unforgiving, he’d come home after a particular exhausting day at the chocolate shop he’d opened only three months prior, when he’d moved back to Japan after almost five years and a half spent in Paris, perfecting his chocolatier skills and managing to become one of the finest, most notorious chocolatiers back there. The voice that Tendō had opened a shop in Japan— Kyōto, to be precise— had spread fairly rapidly and for that, he was immensely glad, but he surely wasn’t used to that load of work, nor to the pressure of actually owning the place and having to instruct others. It was a highly rewarding job, yet stressing— way more than any volleyball match he’d ever participated in. Thankfully, he didn’t have to go through that alone, not anymore. 

Ushijima had always been by his side, and even when he was far, far away due to important tournaments and matches, he’d always found a way to let his boyfriend know that he was _there_ for him, despite maybe not wording it out in the most explicit way. Still, after years of friendship and two spent in a long-distance relationship for the most part, Tendō had learnt well how to interpret Ushijima’s glances and hums. He also found them adorable.

But sometimes, having someone next to him wasn’t nearly enough, and that’s how he’d ended up with a massive headache, collapsing on the futon around one in the morning. Ushijima was already sound asleep and didn’t seem to wake up in the slightest— since the élite player had a strict training schedule, he couldn’t allow himself to stay up late, and needed his body and mind to be in top-shape, constantly. That’s why the two always woke up at different times, sometimes not meeting each other until lunch.

Thankfully, Tendō thought as he was trying to make himself comfortable in the bed, the upcoming day was their free day. With that thought, he’d fallen into a deep slumber.

As Ushijima stepped into their bedroom around eleven in the morning, he couldn’t suppress the uneasy feeling in his stomach; that was way too late for his boyfriend to be still asleep, and Tendō wasn’t one to sleep in either. Ushijima found him curled up on his futon, knees drawn to his chest, back to the door, sock-clothed feet sticking out of the pale, yellow duvet. He looked like he was shaking a bit, too, but Ushijima knew how sensitive to the cold Tendō was.

Still, it was around 23°C indoors, it wasn’t nearly that cold. The man walked up to him, and sat on the bed. Calloused hands reached for Tendō’s shoulder as he rocked him, trying to rouse him. “Satori. Oi, Satori. Wake up.” he called, voice deep and warm.

The former guess-blocker only moaned, sound muffled in the pillow, and breathed out something that sounded like “Five more minutes”, but that sounded more like an incoherent jumble of random letters. Ushijima really didn’t like how hoarse his voice sounded.

“It’s late, why are you still in bed? Get up.” he insisted, tone not sounding any different than usual, despite bearing mild worry with each word.

Tendō sighed, heavy, burying himself further into the duvet, snuggling closer to Ushijima, who was still sitting on the tatami, knees brushing against the futon. He felt warm, Ushijima noticed. The latter kneeled on the floor, eyes squinting as he lowered his face near Tendō’s. Dark-crimson eyes blinked open, barely past a slit, in a faint attempt to block out the nauseating light and to make out a less-blurry figure.

“Toshi..?” the dyed-redhead croaked out, puzzled, “Wha’s the problem?”

“You are sick.”

“M’not, but you’re creepin’ me out there.” He let a hand come out from under the duvet, and brought it to Ushijima’s frowny face; he delicately planted his index and middle finger, joined together, right between Ushijima’s olive-green eyes, massaging the creases away, in a faint attempt to make his boyfriend relax his muscles.

“Y’re gonna be _so_ wrinkly when y’ get older, Toshi…” he chuckled, faintly. If Ushijima had any doubt that Tendō was possibly sick, it was gone; now, he had the confirmation with absolute certainty.

“That is a possibility, indeed.” Ushijima nodded, matter-of-factly. If Tendō had had more strength, he would’ve laughed at his boyfriend’s sternness.

“D’you need me for anythin’?” he asked, instead, slurring as the words rolled uneasily from his tongue.

“You are sick.” Ushijima repeated. “How did you get sick?”

“I d-didn’t? I feel fine. Just... sleepy.”

Ushijima didn’t take the bait, though Tendō truthfully didn’t believe that he was sick; the taller man moved a hand and pressed it firmly on the chocolatier’s forehead: _boiling._

“Satori, you’re hot.”

“Thanks. Y’ too, Toshi.” came the reply, sheepish, Tendō’s eyes fluttering close already.

“I mean that your body temperature’s abnormally high. You are sick.” he explained, not sure if Tendō was delirious or simply playful. “Does anything hurt?”

“Only my pride ‘cause y’ said y’ dun think m’ hot.”

“Right now your body temperature is high, but you are also appealing... usually.”

Tendō cocked an eyebrow, squinting, “Ah? ‘Usually’? Rude...” he said, opening his eyes again to look at the blurry sight before him.

Ushijima repressed a light chuckle, concern making it hard to play along with the man’s jokes, “You’re paler than usual, you’re sweaty and your eyes are dull. If I may, you do not look hot at all, now.” he admitted, “But I still like you.”

“Tha’s relieving, thanks.” Tendō replied with an overly-exaggerated eyeroll. “M' not feelin’ great, but it’s probably ‘cause I’ve been doing a lot ‘f things lately— oi, oi, dun go.”

Ushijima, who’d just gotten up from the bed, looked down at his boyfriend, “I’m going to get some things for you. Because you’re sick.”

“No need to repeat it ten times, man.”

“But it’s true: you are sick. I want to make you feel better.”

“Tha’s sweet, but I’m not actually sick...” Tendō sighed, slowly sitting up, unable to suppress a deep grimace, and regretting the action immediately as it only aggravated the dizzy spell he’d been under since the night prior. He hissed, first digging into the socket of his eyes as he moaned. Ushijima was at his side in an instant; he sat down again, and wrapped his muscular arms around the trembling man, a hand pressing the buzz-haired head against his chest, to provide what he hoped would be some comfort and stability. 

He waited like that for a little while, not moving to avoid dizzying Tendō any further; the latter seemed to notice, and hummed softly, “I guess m’a bit sick.”

“You are.” Ushijima confirmed, “Did you catch something at work?”

“Dunno… Haven’t felt well since, huh... yesterday afternoon.”

“Okay.” Ushijima nodded, grave, “I’m going to take your temperature and we’ll see what to do from there.” 

Ushijima gently, slowly led Tendō toward the futon, so that he was laying horizontal again, the man’s head cradled in his big hand as he gently placed it onto the pillow, sweat-soaked. Without another word, he left for the bathroom. Ushijima fiddled in the bathroom’s cabinet, taking out the thermometer and the whole box of ibuprofen, unsure, and shoved those into his hoodie’s large pocket; crouching near another cabinet to retrieve some towels; he also picked a bowl up. Standing again near the sink, he filled the contained with cold water, and only then he gingerly made his way toward the bedroom, careful not to spill any water.

“I’m back.” he announced, maybe a bit too loud, checking whether Tendō had fallen asleep or not; the answer came as a low groan. “Sit up, I’m going to take your temperature.” he instructed.

But the chocolatier didn’t move, and groaned again, “C-can’t.” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“S’spinny.”

“It’s that bad?” Ushijima said, more to himself than to his boyfriend. He placed the bowl filled with water on the light-brown tatami, and dumped a towel into it, letting it soak a bit. In the meantime, he grabbed the thermometer, and with a delicateness he didn’t know he had, he slid the thermometer into Tendō’s shirt’s collar, and passed it down under his armpit.

The ill man shivered, frowning with his eyes shut close, tight, “S’cold.”

“I know, I’m sorry. It’ll only take a moment.” Ushijima said, sincerely mortified to cause his boyfriend any more distress. The thermometer beeped soon, and Ushijima brought it near his eyes, humming at the digits: 39,4°C. “You are really sick, huh.”

“Feels like it.” Tendō humored. Ushijima’s shoulders sagged slightly, and he retrieved the towel from before, wringing it out a bit before placing it on his boyfriend’s too-warm forehead; the latter whimpered, face scrunching up in something that Ushijima couldn’t quite understand. He slowly grabbed the duvet Tendō’s thin body was buried under and lowered it, to leave at least his upper body out in the air; the sick man didn’t seem to appreciate it as he threw his head back in the pillow, moaning in annoyance and pain.

“Toshi, m’cold, gimme my blanket back!”

“You can’t wear something this warm when you have a fever, Satori.”

“But m’cold.” he said, the violent shiver that ran through his body being the confirmation that Ushijima didn’t quite honestly need, at this point. He sighed, sympathetic, “Does anything hurt?”

“Joints. Head.”

“Is your stomach okay?” Ushijima asked, gently wiping another damp towel on Tendō’s bare arms, to cool him down as much as he could.

“Seems so...” Tendō hummed, “I dun think I’m comin’ down with something... I probably jus’ overworked myself a bit t’much.” he admitted, reluctant. During his volleyball days, he’d always been the one to suggest taking breaks and stretching thoroughly to avoid exertion, but since he’d started to work, even as an apprentice back in the days, the former guess-blocker had turned into a real stakanotive. Ushijima had always kept a close eye on him whenever he could, so he didn’t know about any similar accidents. Still, the two of them had been living on the opposite sides of the planet for a little less than six years, so Ushijima knew that he might have been wrong, or rather, not informed enough.

The latter laid down on the tatami, on his side, a hand supporting his head; he eyed the man before him, who looked downright exhausted. His eyes were dull, blank, blinking with slow, sheepish movements, not often either; Tendō stared at the ceiling, though Ushijima believed that he wasn’t really looking at anything in particular, but maybe simply trying to ground himself. Was he still dizzy, then?

“A lil bit.” Tendō replied. Ah, Ushijima thought, he must have asked that out loud. But at least now he knew for sure. “I brought you ibuprofen tablets. I’ll make some food, you can’t take one of those on an empty stomach or you might get sicker.” Ushijima explained. With his free hand, he gently rubbed Tendō’s trembling shoulder in a soothing manner, before getting up.

“Oi, Toshi?”

“Mh?”

“Hurry. Please.”

“I will. You stay here and rest.”

Tendō watched Ushijima disappear toward the kitchen. He threw a lanky arm across his face, lower arm covering his eyes and blocking any extra stimulus out; he wished he could get a couple of hours of shuteye right now, but he knew that Ushijima was probably going to force him to eat something first, and probably lecture him about the importance of taking care and establishing a routine to preserve one’s health.

If he didn’t have an upcoming migraine, he would’ve appreciated it, but just the thought of having to stay awake for more than the time necessary to swallow a bite of whatever Ushijima was going to make, made him feel utterly drained. Not that he wasn’t already, after all. He swore that he’d never felt this bad in his entire life, not once.

When his bladder protested, Tendō cursed through gritted teeth. “I dun have th’ strength to get up. Quit it.” he hissed. But the dull, breaking sensation in his lower stomach hadn't abated yet, and before he realised it, he’d begun to sit up, gingerly. His fists gripped the futon for dear life, arms under him shaking horribly with the effort. Tendō’s breaths were ragged, coming out in hot puffs of air, hitched.

There was no way he was walking to the bathroom, not like this; there weren’t many things that embarrassed him, but being found passed out with his pants down his knees was something that Tendō wanted to gladly avoid. He would have rather died than being seen like that by anyone else. Getting on all fours, the chocolatier started to make his way toward the bathroom, squinting at the blurry entrance, moving as slow as he could to avoid any dizzy-spells that would have, without a doubt, caused him to tumble down— Tendō knew for sure that he wouldn’t have even tried to get up, were that to happen.

Finally, blissfully, the man managed to enter the bathroom; he got up, steadying himself against the doorframe before taking a couple of hesitant and wobbly steps toward the squeaky-clean toilet. He sat down on it, shivering at the icy porcelain, and waited patiently for his body to do the rest. However, Tendō didn’t hear Ushijima coming back, nor did he expect him to stop right in front of the bathroom’s door, that he’d left open, and quizzically look at Tendō, mouth slightly gaping. He placed the tray he was holding down, and crossed his arms. The chocolatier cocked an eyebrow.

“Toshi, baby, do… huh, you mind?”

“What are you doing?” Ushijima asked, still looking uncharacteristically concerned, and slightly amused as well. 

Tendō tilted his head slightly, “Are you asking me if m’ taking a piss or a shit, or..?” 

“No. I’m asking you what you are doing. Because… Well, you might want to look down.” Ushijima said, entirely failing to repress a snicker.

The ill man did as he was told, and it took him more than what he liked to admit before realising that he hadn't taken his pants off before sitting down. Thank goodness he hadn’t done anything, yet.

Still, the heat that suddenly rose to his face was very obviously not caused by the fever; he curled on himself, face pressed against his shaky knees, and groaned. Ushijima kneeled in front of him, patting his back gently.

“It happens, it’s okay. You are sick, Satori, it’s okay.” he comforted.

“M’going to have to kill you, n-now that you’ve seen this, Toshi.”

“At least you noticed before anything more tragic happened. Now do what you must, I’ll wait in the bedroom. Unless… unless you want me to stay here in the meantime?” Ushijima asked, unsure. Truth is, he really didn’t know how to take care of others in these situations, and all he knew, he’d learnt from Tendō. Ushijima had fallen ill a couple of times since they’d started living together, less than a year prior, and he’d also injured his wrist during practice— the right one, thankfully— and his boyfriend had always managed to nurse him back to health. He didn’t look like it, but he was a reliable guy.

“Y’wanna hold my hand while I pee? So romantic.” Tendō hummed, jokingly. He slid his pants down, trying to let it go, to no avail. The sense of uneasiness he felt as Ushijima stared at him with penetrating, worried eyes was slightly counterproductive. He’d always had a shy bladder, Ushijima knew that as well, but this time the latter didn’t seem to remember that.

“Toshi, y’re making my bladder cramp up.” he admitted with a low, tired chuckle. Ushijima’s eyes widened a bit, and he bowed his head, turning around, fingers jammed in his ears.

“I’ll be here just in case you fall over, but I can’t hear nor see a thing, so don’t be embarrassed. Now pee.”

“Geez, don’t make it sound like an order.” Tendō laughed. Once he was done, he flushed the toilet and walked over the sink to wash his hands; sweat soaked his shirt and forehead as he struggled to keep himself upright, the room spinning madly around him. Halfway through the final rinse, a particularly nasty dizzy-spell hit him at full force; Tendō nearly doubled over, arms on the countertop, head buried in them as he groaned again. Ushijima basically leapt to his side, and gently rubbed his back.

Even if he couldn’t see him from his position, the ex-player knew that Ushijima was eyeing him closely, eyes filled with intense worry, piercing gaze tangible. Ushijima ran his hand up and down Tendō’s arched back, the other arm slid under his armpit to prevent him from falling face-first on the countertop, were his knees to suddenly give out. 

“Bed?” Ushijima called.

“Bed.”

The pro-player nodded, and gingerly scooped Tendō’s light, sweaty body in his arms, holding him tight and pacing slowly, trying to make his movements as linear and smooth as he could. He kneeled in front of the futon, and placed his boyfriend down delicately. Tendō didn’t look good, at all. Ushijima rapidly placed a fresh, damp towel on his forehead, covering his eyes too, and placed a couple of spare pillows under his boyfriend’s slim ankles.

“I left the food near the bathroom’s door, I’ll go get it.” he announced, and before Tendō could even find the strength to protest, his boyfriend was back— even if he couldn’t see, Ushijima’s footsteps weren’t exactly light, so it wasn’t hard to understand when he was approaching. Steady hands slid the thermometer under the shorter man’s armpit once again.

“Uhm.” he hummed, sound coming from deep down his throat, “It’s gone up. 39,6°C now. You need to cool down.”

“M’always cool.”

“Satori.”

“Sorry, bad timin’... But I dun wanna eat, I wanna sleep. That’s it, jus’ sleep.” Tendō slurred, head lolling. Ushijima’s heart clenched; he’d never seen that man look so worn out, so frail. It hurt him, not being able to help more than that. 

“Dun do that.”

“What?”

“The thing you do with… with that face. Sad. Dun do it. No frowny faces allowed.” Tendō spoke, bringing a hand up to delicately brush against Ushijima’s strong jaw, now clenched tight. 

“Sorry.” Ushijima exhaled, planting a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s scalding forehead, feeling the damp and salty skin against his lips, “Can I sit you up? You need to eat and drink.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

Tendō exhaled, “Fine.” and with that, Ushijima propped him up against himself; he could feel the man’s sticky shirt against his, Tendō’s panting chest heaving with an unsteady rhythm. Ushijima allowed the man to sink further against him, and brought his own arms forward, picking up the bowl with the right, and the spoon with the left, and allowing Tendō to slowly sip the warm soup. After ten long, painful minutes, the chocolatier had only managed to gulp down about half of what Ushijima had cooked, before vehemently shaking his head and letting it sag into Ushijima’s shoulder.

The latter didn’t insist, not wanting to make his boyfriend feel any sicker, and placed the bowl down. Tendō had broken out in cold sweats a few minutes prior, and hadn’t stopped shivering since, but the fact that he was shaking was indeed a good sign; maybe, Ushijima hoped, the fever was close to finally breaking. 

“I need you to drink this and take some medicine before you sleep, Satori.” he called gently, brandishing a bottle of mineral water. He unscrewed the cap and brought the bottle near Tendō’s chapped lips, nudging delicately to make him open his mouth. The latter did that, though reluctantly.

After a couple of timid, small gulps of fresh water, he pulled away, unable to drink any more. The speed at which he managed to swallow the ibuprofen tablet was almost frightening, but Ushijima could tell that it was only because Tendō was desperate for sleep. So, he laid down, Tendō’s body still propped against his, and rolled away delicately, on his futon. The former guess-blocker seemed to be already drifting off into an uneasy slumber, and Ushijima gently scooted closer; he placed one hand on the man’s creased forehead, glistered in sweat, and rubbed his thumb up and down all the way from Tendō’s hairline to the middle of his eyebrows, over and over. 

“S’nice.” Tendō breathed out, sleepy, a faint smile on his flushed face, “But y’might catch th’fever too if y’stay too close, Toshi…”

“I won’t. It’s not a contagious fever, Satori. Besides, I wouldn’t have left you to deal with this on your own even if the fever was contagious.” Ushijima commented, “You can sleep, I’ll wake you up later to check that fever and make you drink some more water.” 

“Y’re so nice n’ handsome, my main man Wakatoshi, the one and only…” Tendō said, and if Ushijima didn’t know whether his boyfriend was delirious or not earlier already, now he knew even less, thrown into utter confusion and disarray. Still, he didn’t mind the compliment. 

“Thanks. You are nice and handsome as well.” he replied, truthful to his feelings, “Now rest. I love you.” he finished, planting a delicate kiss on the man’s cheek, soft and squishy. Tendō giggled, looking relieved and slightly less in pain, “Thanks, baby. I love y’too.”

The two of them stayed in that position for a while, Tendō laying on his back, Ushijima propped up on one elbow as he caressed his boyfriend's face gently, looking at him fondly, eyes scanning every little detail, every crease of his skin, every little mole, every shallow dimple... Despite the fact that Tendō despised being sick, he wouldn't have traded that moment for anything in the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that SOME people *glares at Americans* don't use celsius, so... 23°C=73,4°F. 39,4°C=102,9°F. 39,6°C=103,2°F. Hope this helps!  
> -  
> I don't know why, but in the past two days my brain hasn't been able to put together a coherent sentence in English (or, in general). If you spot any mistakes, please tell me, because I genuinely can't open the "how to speak" app in my brain now.  
> -  
> I finished BANANA FISH almost four hours ago and I'm still tearing up at the thought of that finale...... it hurt so much. Oh my God. I'm fucking devastated, no joke. I cried more than with Shigatsu Ha Kimi No Uso, and believe me that with the latter I almost hyperventilated (I'M SENSITIVE). Damn........  
> -  
> Friendly reminder that you can find me on Tumblr (here's the [link](https://theforgottendaydreamer.tumblr.com/))  
> -  
> ❗ Don't read and run ❗ leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed this, please. Your support means the world to me :D


	5. DaiSuga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daichi: 25 years old.  
> Sugawara: 26 years old.  
> -  
> ⚠️ none.

The frizzy morning breeze gently blew inside the room, window open barely past a slit; warm yet pale sunrays penetrated through the transparent glass and the cream-colored curtains, light, and shone on the entangled bodies that placidly laid on the futon, sheets disheveled and crumpled. Strong, sand-colored arms pulled a pale torso closer, Sugawara’s skin so smooth and soft, its coconut scent gently tickling Daichi’s nose as he roused.

Chocolate eyes blinked open and met ash-grey hair, messy and kinky; the men were both laying on their side, arms wrapped around each other, Sugawara’s long leg resting on his boyfriend’s hip— how he managed to be so elastic was still a mystery to him.

Daichi slowly, gingerly moved to glance at the alarm clock, that was placed on Sugawara’s side of the futon and, as if on cue, it rang, signaling that it was time to get up for the young teacher; the other man, however, still had a hour of sleep, since his shift started at ten, today.

“Kōshi? Babe, wake up.” he called, planting a delicate kiss on the sleeping man’s cheek, “It’s 7:20am, you’ll miss the bus if you sleep in.”

  
The alarm still rang in the background, Sugawara too sleepy to even bother making it stop; he didn’t seem to have any intention of getting up, and only buried himself further into Daichi’s bare chest, exhaling. The latter shook his head, a light chuckle escaping his lips as he brought a hand up and gently shook Sugawara’s round shoulder,

“Sugawara Kōshi, wake up.”

“Mhn, dun wanna.” the slightly-shorter man croaked out, more asleep than not, “M’tired.”

“You’ve been sleeping for the past nine hours, now, how can you still be tired?”

“Sh’t up. Cuddle me.” he ordered, slamming his arm down on the alarm clock that finally, blissfully stopped ringing in his sensitive ears.

He faced the other direction now, a very clear indication for Daichi to be his big spoon. And he complied without a single word, resigned to the fact that his boyfriend was probably going to get mad at him for ‘not trying more insistently’ later on, like it always happened. Sugawara’s form shrunk into the embrace, knees curled up against his own chest as he scooted backwards and into Daichi’s abdomen, letting the gentle curve of his body adjust to the new position. 

“Kō, babe, you’re gonna be late.” the former team captain mumbled, half-asleep again, “Dun get angry at me if that happens.”

“I won’t.” 

“You will, you always do.”

“Shut up, Sawamura.” Sugawara bit back, and only curled on himself further, “M’cold, gimme your body heat.”

Daichi obliged with a deep sigh, pulling his boyfriend closer, hug tight and comforting. And when Sugawara sighed in relief, he knew that he’d done a good job.

With that thought in mind, they both fell asleep once again into a light slumber, occasionally mumbling and sighing, tossing a bit as sweat glistered their foreheads and parts where their bodies made contact— sleeping like that was incredibly nice, but it was still early July, afterall, and even if Miyagi’s summers were bearable and pleasantly fresh, today was particularly warm. Daichi couldn’t really understand how Sugawara could be cold, but coming to think about it, he’d always had icy feet and hands, ever since the two had met.

Daichi was only wearing his checked boxers, while Sugawara had a teal t-shirt on as well, too sensitive to the slightest cold to sleep with his chest bare.

“S’ too hot.” Sugawara moaned, suddenly, slightly startling Daichi who had almost conked out once again, “Move, Daichi.”

“Y’re the one who wanted to cuddle.” the taller man pouted, “Besides, now _I_ want cuddles.”

“Fine. Then I’ll be your big spoon.” Sugawara mumbled, already moving.

“No, I need _the_ smoochies.”

And that’s all the explanation that Sugawara needed. He exhaled, slowly, mustering enough strength to climb on top of Daichi, who now laid sprawled on his back, arms open to welcome the new presence. He flopped on him with a huff, and brought his hands up, long and slim fingers gently entangled in the chocolate, short hair; Daichi’s hands moved downwards, resting on his boyfriend’s buttcheeks, thrilled but far too tired to anything do more _lively_ than making out, in that moment. 

“Dai, my ass—”

“Don’t worry, Kō, I won’t do anything too extra. I’m still too sleepy for that.”

“Maybe later, then?” Sugawara hummed, and brought his face close to Daichi’s, tips of their noses brushing delicately, “Tonight, after work, we could maybe take a long bath and, you know, _cuddle?”_

The policeman grinned, excited. “Well, I don’t see why not...” 

And Sugawara simply brought his lips down on his boyfriend's, savouring his sweat and breath, lips slightly apart to let him slide his tongue in, delicate and slow. Greedy hands ran up and down his back, under his shirt, and a shiver ran down Sugawara’s back as he moaned, but never pulled away from the kiss, that got more and more intense with each passing second. His hands cradled Daichi’s head, thumbs rubbing the scalp, feeling the soft locks that smelled like vanilla gently brushing against his skin, now free of any callus that volleyball had caused— it had been years since he’d last played in a serious match, after all, and though he did play from time to time for fun, he rarely trained as hard as he used to back in highschool.

Same thing went for Daichi, though he was required to be in shape because of his job as a policeman, so he did work out a bit more often than Sugawara, admittedly.

The former setter felt his body tensing up under Daichi’s thirsty touches, but he didn’t stop, and only opened his mouth further to the point where he feared he would unhinge his jaw.

It hadn’t been _that_ long since he and Daichi had an intimate moment, but both of them supposed that this was just them trying to make up for all of those long, years of unrelenting pining before Daichi had actually managed to confess— Sugawara would have never thought about doing that, too shy and afraid when it came to these matters. 

Tongues danced and twirled in each other’s mouth, hands desperately scratching the skin as if to get more, and if the two of them were hot earlier, they were positively boiling now, breathless and sweaty, the slightly-higher temperature not being the main cause of that. Sugawara’s mouth instinctively trailed down Daichi’s muscular neck, sucking onto it just barely enough to leave a faint mark that would most likely disappear in a few hours at most— he may have been inebriated by desire, but he still knew how his boyfriend, and him too, needed to keep their reputation clean, and how showing up with a hickey was probably not the best way to do so.

Daichi moaned, loud, and Sugawara hated how he couldn’t do more now, despite wanting to take that man there, fair and square. Just as he was thinking about it, the teacher tensed, feeling how Daichi had just brought one knee up, purposefully brushing against his boyfriend’s inner thigh, making him break out in cold sweat, lungs seizing. Sugawara pulled apart, fanned, eyes glassy and filled with lust.

“N-no, stop. Let’s keep this sure-for-work until tonight.” he breathed out, gulping like a fish out of water, and reluctant to let those words escape his mouth.

He longed for further, more intimate contact now, and there was no way he could have denied it, given that it was pretty _obvious,_ but he didn’t have the necessary strength nor time at the moment. _  
_

Daichi sighed, rolling his eyes in slight annoyance, but understanding the necessity and the slight urgency in Sugawara’s words; he let his leg drop back down.

“Fine, I get it.” he said, adding a ‘killjoy’ under his breath, that only made the teacher chuckle.

“Now let me go back to sleep, or I’ll be the one punishing you, _officer._ ” Sugawara teased with one last, quick kiss, and flopped back on the futon, dragging the sheet up to cover up to his neck.

Daichi cocked a thick eyebrow, blushing intensely at the sudden allusion, “When did you become like this, Sugawara? You scare me, sometimes.” he chuckled, “Also, it’s getting late. What about work?”

“I’ll be up in five minutes, now shush.” he admonished, and fell asleep shortly after.

Daichi didn’t lay his head back down, and stayed propped up on one elbow; he allowed himself to gingerly brush messy Sugawara’s locks out of his face, with only two fingers to avoid hurting him, and rested that same hand on the side of his boyfriend’s head, thumb drawing tiny circles on his soft cheek— that man didn’t seem to be able to grow any beard, unlike Daichi, who had to shave every other day.

Chocolate eyes scanned Sugawara’s face in every little detail; the classy, round mole under his left eye was something that Daichi had always been in love with, he found it adorable, and a trait that made Sugawara look overall lovelier, if that was even possible.

Long, grey eyelashes rested still as the young teacher continued to sleep, unmoving, breathing in and out softly at a steady rhythm, reassuring. It almost lulled Daichi to sleep, as he laid his head on the pillow and kept staring at the man before him. His vision grew fuzzier with each passing instant, but he didn’t mind at all.

The sight before him was far too perfect, and to be fair, he didn’t mind being hypnotized and bewitched by that; a faint smile appeared on his face, and he allowed himself to rest his eyes for only one minute.

When Daichi blinked his eyes open— _When did I close them in the first place..? Oh, right._ _—_ an undetermined amount of time later, a hand automatically rising to his face to scratch at his peach-fuzz stubble, groaning in pleasure as he stretched his legs from the curled position he’d been in for… Definitely not ‘only one minute’.

“Holy shit.” he gasped, “Oi, Kōshi. Kō, get up, man. You gotta get up.” he called, unceremoniously scrambling into a sitting position,

“Babe, it’s 8:30. Up, up!” he said, mildly alarmed as he shook his boyfriend’s shoulder.

Sugawara moaned, rolling on his back; he brought a pale arm up to shield his eyes and blinked at Daichi’s blurry form, saliva trailing down the corner of his agape mouth,

“Wha’?”

“You got school in fifteen minutes, dumbass. You need to get up right now.”

“School..? But I graduated— oh, shit, school. School!” Sugawara basically yelled, a little too loud. He sat up, fanned as he rubbed his eyes a little too violently.

He then turned to Daichi, wide-eyed and panicked, “What time did you say it was?”

“Uh, it’s 8:32 to be precise.”

And hell broke loose inside of Sugawara’s still-too-fuzzy head. He shot up from the futon, hands in his hair as he grabbed his phone to check the time himself; sadly, Daichi wasn’t mistaken.

The slightly older man immediately leapt to the other side of the room, getting his backpack and shoving some books inside— the young officer wondered if he knew which books he was going to need that day, or if he was just putting random manuals in the bag— fighting with the sheets that crumpled and didn’t fit in. 

“Do your students have any tests with you today?”

“No, no, but I can’t be late. I can’t.” Sugawara said, trying to close his bag, gritting his teeth to the point where Daichi feared that they would crack. “If I manage to catch the bus at 8:40 I will be able to be in school by nine, hopefully. It’s late, but probably excusable.” 

Daichi chuckled, slightly amused, “Babe, the bus stop is almost ten minutes away on foot and you’re not wearing any clothes yet. You’ll never catch it in time, I’m sorry.”

“I will if I _run._ ”

“Nice, arriving at school late _and_ stinky. Nice plan, Sugawara, truly a great example for your children.” Daichi mocked, “Come on, I can take you there by car soon. Go wash, I’ll make breakfast.”

Sugawara groaned, letting himself flop down on the tatami, “Why didn’t you try to rouse me with more insistence!? I’ll be lucky if I only get yelled at and not directly fired. Damn it, damn it— you should’ve insisted more!” 

“I knew the blame was going to be on me, eventually...” Daichi sighed, resigned; he started stretching, a loud yawn tore from his throat as he did so. “What happens if you’re late for once in your life? Relax, it’s fine, they won’t fire you for this.” 

“Maybe, but it’s not fine, though. There are little kids waiting for me, and as their teacher I have to show them how to be responsible and mature. God, I still have to take a shower and comb my hair and choose what to wear and—”

“Kōshi, babe, calm down. I can call the school and warn them that you might be late because you didn’t feel well or something and needed a little extra rest.”

“I can’t _lie_ to them, Dai!”

“It’s not a lie, just a half-truth..?” the officer said, tentatively, “That’s it, I’m calling. I’ll tell them you’ll be there by 9:45 tops. That way, I can take you there by car in less than fifteen minutes, since I start at ten.”

Sugawara flung himself across the room, a hand attempting at grabbing his boyfriend’s, but the latter already had the phone in his hands, as he rapidly scrolled down the contacts and called the school Sugawara had started working for almost two years prior. After a couple of tense moments, someone on the other end finally picked up.

“Hello, this is Sawamura Daichi, I’m calling on behalf of Sugawara-sensei…” he announced, voice deep, “Yes, it’s me, goodmorning… Ah, yes, Sugawara-sensei felt sick earlier, though he mostly recovered by now… Oh, yes, he’s okay, thank you… Of course... He’ll manage to be there around 9:45 if everything goes well… I understand… Yes, I’ll tell him that… Okay, thank you… Thank you so much, forgive me for the trouble… Thank you, ma’am, goodbye.” and with that, he hung up.

“See? That was easy.” Daichi hummed, winking.

“W-who did you talk to? Was that the principal? What did she say?” Sugawara fretted, tawny-brown eyes wide.

Daichi bit his lower lip, gaze low, “She said you’re fired and that she’ll wait for you outside with a gun.” He certainly didn’t expect a pillow to be thrown straight up in his face, sending him toppling over with a choked ‘oof’.

Still, Daichi laughed, while Sugawara threw himself at the man, sitting on his lap as the other laid down, “You want to fight?”

“Oh, I do. So badly.” Daichi teased, grinning, “But someone said to wait until after work, so for now I’ll be good. You should too, sensei.”

“I hate you.”

“You really don’t.” he hummed, matter-of-factly, and truthfully. Sugawara only pouted.

“I’m serious, though, what did the principal say? Do I need to show her a medical certificate to attest this morning’s illness? Do I have to take sup classes?” he asked, fearful.

Daichi shrugged, “She said to call again before the next period starts to say if you’re going or not, and that you’ll probably have to cover someone’s class sometime soon. Oh, she also asked if you’re okay, she’s more thoughtful than what you make her out to be. Now move, you reek of sweat and horny.”

“D-do I!?” Sugawara asked, sincerely mortified as he whiffed his armpits, face scrunching up in a disgusted expression, “Sweat for sure, geez. I’ll go take a shower, then.”

He got up from Daichi, not before kissing him again, and stretched a bit, “To make amends for making me ‘reek of horny’ and also for making me arrive late at work, you shall cook some rice and natto. Oh, and I want tea as well.” he said, leaving for the bathroom, visibly calmer than earlier.

That was enough for Daichi, honestly, and with that in mind, he headed for the kitchen, off to make some breakfast.

While Sugawara was in the shower, Daichi also packed their bentō for lunchtime. He liked cooking, and he was better at it than his boyfriend— it’s not that Sugawara was a bad cook, but he often went too hard with the seasoning, and after that time when Ryū and Kiyoko, who’d come to their apartment to pay a visit, had almost choked on the wasabi despite being able to handle it well usually, Daichi had always been adamant on being the one in charge of making food. 

Sugawara finally entered the kitchen around 8:50, looking cleaner and more relaxed, drying his damp hair with a soft-looking towel; his eyes immediately lit up at the sight of food, and he licked his lips, sitting in front of the low table as he eyed Daichi, gaze filled with love and appreciation, “Such a lucky guy I am… I can’t believe I managed to call dibs on you.” he sighed, dreamily.

The taller man snorted, sitting down, “ _You_ called dibs on _me?_ Think again, I asked you out first.”

Sugawara was already pouring the natto on the rice, so he didn’t raise his gaze, and only clicked his tongue repeatedly, “You may have asked me out first, but _I_ set my eyes on you before you even knew my name, sir.”

“Lies, lies.”

“It’s true. You started to remember my name two whole weeks after we joined the club, but I remembered your name since day one. It was kind of embarrassing, really, how I started calling you simply ‘Daichi’ without any title only after two months of school, while you kept on using ‘Sugawara-san’ until the end of the first year.” he joked.

Daichi blushed, averting the man’s gaze, “You’re so mean! Besides, it was ‘Suga-san’, not ‘Sugawara-san’, you know?”

The teacher appeared to be pondering for a brief instant, before he shook his grey head, “No, no, it was _definitely_ ‘Sugawara-san’. The first one to call me ‘Suga-san’ was Asahi, and only after that you all kinda just went with ‘Suga’, no titles involved. I remember it clearly. And that ‘Suga’ kind of stuck, even now.”

Daichi exhaled, defeated. Both of them downed breakfast rapidly, wanting to get Sugawara to school as fast as they could, and Daichi asked him to wash the dishes while he went to take a shower himself. The latter was by the door at 9:15, his uniform on, ready for work.

Sugawara joined him a second later, trying to fix his necktie properly as he gathered his thoughts and tried to remember if he’d grabbed everything, phone held in the crook of his neck as he warned the principal that he was on his way, fully recovered from his ‘illness’, apologising profusely for the trouble.

Finally, the two men got in the car, and started their day, longing for the night to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> «don't forget  
> 3.oct.11»  
> -  
> My existential crisis is caused by the fact that the characters I've talked about so far all go by their surnames, but Daichi doesn't go by Sawamura with his friends, and nor do most of the others I'll have to write about....... ggggghhhhh. Should I change all the Daichi (not in the dialogues) to Sawamura to make it be more along the lines of the previous chapters, or should I leave it like this? This also counts for the future chapters.  
> -  
> ⚠️ Please check my friend's fic out!! Haikyuu + whumptober, what's better than that? You can find said fic [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26772118?view_adult=true) !  
> -  
> ❗ Don't read and run ❗ leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed this, please. Your support means the world to me :D


	6. AsaNoya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asahi: 18 years old.  
> Nishinoya: 18 years old.  
> -  
> ⚠️ none.

During that late-winter evening— one like many others— the squeak of sports shoes against the wooden boards echoed in the gym along the sound of volleyballs being hit, tossed and slammed down; the air impregnated with sweat and lavender air-freshener— courtesy of Yachi— filled everyone’s noses, despite the doors were wide open. And now, it was clear that everyone was tired after two intense hours spent running, practising diving dills and seal-walk, tossing and spiking.

Finally, like a blessing from the sky, Ukai’s rough voice echoed in the gym as he clapped his hands.

“Aight, that's it for today. Stretch thoroughly before heading home! I’ll see you on Monday, rest up in the meantime, kiddos.” he shouted, now standing with his arms crossed, already on his way out of the gym as he spared a last glance toward the team. 

Takeda, who was already out of the building, rapidly peeked his head inside, waving a hand that, by the looks of it, was indubitably pointed toward Kageyama, Hinata, Tanaka and Nishinoya. “And you four, don’t forget to study! Remember, I’m always watching your marks. Always!” he grinned, though his words sounded like a real threat, to be fair. 

Once the adults left, Ennoshita started shouting instructions on what exercises to do now. But Nishinoya’s head was somewhere else entirely, and it wasn’t hard to notice as he stretched, movements sloppy and imprecise; he felt a sturdy elbow on his ribs and winced, turning toward the source of the offence he’d just received.

“Ryuu, you bastard, what was that for!?” he growled, squinting at his best friend.

The buzz-headed teen snorted, rolling his grey eyes in amusement as he kept on stretching, “Dude, you’ve been away with the fairies this whole time. Stop thinking about your knight in a shining armor for one sec, geez! Poor Asahi’s gonna think he’s caught a cold: you make him shiver so much by thinking about him _all_ the time.” he teased. Nishinoya blushed slightly, flipping him off. 

Once they were done with that, they all headed to the clubroom in order to change out of their sweat-soaked clothes; Nishinoya took his phone out, flipping the camera so that he could see himself; he brought a hand up to fix his hair— _Thank goodness it doesn’t look too sweaty,_ he thought— and eyebrows, grinning at the camera. Still, one unwanted presence peeked from behind. Now there were two of them. And Three. Four. Soon, all the presents stood behind Nishinoya, grinning at the camera, except for Tsukishima and Kageyama who looked either bored or baffled, nobody could tell.

“What are you all doing?” the shortest guy asked, cocking a thin eyebrow.

“Ah? Aren’t you taking a picture?” Hinata asked, scratching the back of his head, “We all look super cool, you should take it now! No, actually— Kageyama, move, you’re ruining the pic with that frown.” he joked.

The boy with corvine hair clearly didn’t understand the humor behind his friend’s voice, and the two started bickering, though everyone had learnt to tune them out, even the new first-years who had, however, already left the clubroom. Tanaka not-so-gently patted Nishinoya’s back, grinning knowingly, “Our short-tempered saviour, the fill-in MVP, our one and only libero, mister Nishinoya Yuu— has a date!” he announced loudly.

“Y-you damn snitch!”

Ennoshita chuckled, “It’s not your first date, you’ll be fine. I bet that Asahi will be happy to meet you after one whole month, Noya.”

“Actually, it’s been more like two months.” the libero corrected with a deep sigh, “But, I mean, I know he’ll be happy, I am too, obviously. I just… I’m kinda sorry that I always show up looking like trash while Asahi always looks like _that.”_

“Asahi-senpai is always cool, he’s got a point.” Hinata cut in, his hands wrapped around Kageyama’s wrists as the latter was still trying to attack him.

“Yeah, it’s true. But you’re cool too, Noya!” Yamaguchi hummed, “Besides, I don’t really think that he expects you to look any different after practise. He used to be one of us, afterall.”

“Oi, don’t make it sound like he betrayed us or like he died.”

“Sorry, Tsukki.” the freckled-boy breathed out, starching his face with his index, shyly.

Nishinoya picked his bag up, shaking his head, “You guys really need to stop being so nosey, though.”

“Noya, you literally stalked me for a month during our first year.” Ennoshita deadpanned.

“Yeah, and you peer-pressured Chikara into peer-pressuring us into joining the club!” Kinoshita added, thumb pointing toward himself and Narita while the latter limited himself to nodding his head vehemently.

“That was Ryuu’s fault, too!” Nishinoya yelled, and laughter erupted from everyone. He let his shoulders sag in defeat, and flipped Tanaka off once again with a smirk, before saying goodbye to everyone and running toward the station where he was supposed to meet with Asahi soon.

The older boy got off the train, frantically looking around to spot Nishinoya and failing miserably, but also being careful not to hit anyone with his tiny trolley. He headed toward the exit of the station, phone in hand as he checked for any new mail while he patiently waited. He found none, and sighed. The icy breeze of that late-February evening blew without a stop, making his frame rattle even if Asahi hugged himself, trying to rub his arms and warm some; he breathed in and out, mouth and nose buried in his thick scarf, making the heat rise and fog his glasses. That’s why he almost jumped out of his skin when a tiny hand patted him on the back. “Hello!”

Asahi whirled around, eyes wide behind the spectacles; he found Nishinoya looking at him with a wide grin on his face, nose-tip, cheeks and ears tinged of a pale red, probably because of the freezing wind. He smiled, still a bit startled, “Y-Yuu, why would you attack me like this in the middle of the night? You scared me!”

Nishinoya laughed, sliding one arm under Asahi’s, clinging his elbow, “It’s barely 7pm, man! Plus, it’s full of people, nobody would attack you here. ‘Attacking’ is a strong word, since I only touched you.” he clarified, tugging Asahi’s sturdier form closer; despite his stuffy nose, Nishinoya still managed to get a whiff of the former ace’s hair, soft and shiny locks elegantly falling down his shoulders, just about at Nishinoya’s head-height. 

Asahi kept rambling, gesticulating with his free hand as he freed the other arm from Nishinoya’s grip and wrapped it around his shoulders, protectively. “That’s still an attack, to me! And actually, _bad_ people would do that here, because it’s hard to see who attacked you among this many people, and the attackers _know_ that!” he explained, fanned. 

“My God,” Nishinoya shook his head, bemused, “what did they do to you in Tōkyō? Sounds like you’ve been living in hell or something.” he chuckled. Asahi did too, shrugging, “It's certainly different from Miyagi, yeah.”

The two started walking toward the place where they’d booked a table— Asahi had insisted that going to a random ramenya was fine, but since he didn’t visit often, and since Nishinoya couldn’t travel to Tōkyō yet due to exams and tournaments, the shorter boy had decided to go somewhere a bit nicer for the occasion. Nothing too fancy, but still more intimate than sitting on stools with another billion people around. They reached their destination soon enough, and were immediately greeted by an old woman who led them to their table, dragging the shōji closed to separate them from the nearby table. 

“Finally, a bit of privacy.” Nishinoya exhaled, elbows on the table as he put his head on his hands, smiling sheepishly at Asahi, who was sitting in front of him, “I missed you a lot.”

“Gosh, I missed you too!” Asahi practically yelled, gulping, finally able to speak those words out loud— he was way too nervous for that, earlier. “I’ve been thinking about you all the time, and I’m so, so, so, _so_ sorry that I couldn’t come here earlier. I wanted to visit for Kinoshita’s birthday last week, but I really couldn’t. I’m so sorry, really.” he breathed out, evidently mortified, much to Nishinoya’s confusion.

He brought his hands forward, cradling Asahi’s, the hold so gentle and warm, and let his gaze melt into his, chestnut-brown eyes meeting for more than just a quick glance. They hadn’t looked at each other like that for almost two months, fifty-three days to be exact— they’d both been counting them, keeping track of how long they had spent apart. And it hurt, to not be able to see each other daily like they used to. A little more than two hours by plane, almost six by car; _too_ far away, it was unbearable for them. They’d been having videocalls every other night, and exchanged emails daily, but it still wasn’t the same; not being able to hold each other, to cuddle, huddled for warmth and comfort in Nishinoya’s bed— it was bigger than the one Asahi had in his room, back at home. They missed the interminable nights spent talking and chuckling, exchanging soft kisses under the duvet as Nishinoya practically clinged onto Asahi as if the boy was a tree, falling asleep too late and showing up to school tired, but happy.

Asahi and Nishinoya had been officially together since the Nationals, so it had been about a year since their relationship had started, but they’d been together without mentioning anything to anyone since the start of Nishinoya’s second and Asahi’s third year back in highschool. Yet, they hadn't had enough time to be together like they wished, because the older boy had soon moved to Tōkyō to study Fashion, and after that, they’d been able to meet once a month, not every month, and only for a couple of days in a row at most. It wasn’t enough for them. It simply wasn’t.

The muffled steps coming toward their table snapped the boys out of their trance, as a young waiter arrived to take their orders, bowing slightly before asking what the clients wished to eat.

“Yakisoba for me, please.” Nishinoya said, smiling.

Asahi scratched his beard, “I’ll have, huh… curry udon, please.”

The waiter nodded, not raising his eyes from the little notepad, “Got it. May I get you anything special to drink, or is green tea okay?”

Asahi and Nishinoya exchanged looks, before the latter spoke, “Green tea’s fine, thanks.”

The waiter nodded his head again and left, leaving the two boys alone again. The uneasy silence that filled the air between them was almost as deafening as the one produced from whoever was at the table behind the shōji, probably businessmen who took a drop too much. 

Asahi looked down at his crossed legs, fists gripping at his pants as he fumbled for words, “S-so, how’s everything going with the team? Is Ennoshita doing okay as a Captain?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s great!” Nishinoya nodded, “We’ve won many matches thanks to his captainship, though he’s less scary than Daichi so it’s not as easy to motivate the first-years. I'm scared for Yamaguchi, I think he'll struggle a bit when it'll be his turn to get the first-years into the right mindset.” he laughed, “But Chikara's doing great. We all are, really. But… We miss you, and the others. It’s not the same, to play without you three and without Kiyoko-san watching over us like the goddess she is.”

Asahi chuckled, “Should I be jealous?”

“Not at all! Also, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Kiyoko-san willingly gave her email address to Ryuu, via Suga. Like, she _chose_ to do that! Isn’t that amazing? My man’s finally shooting his shot. Or, well, he will, at some point.”

“Tanaka’s always been loyal, it’s undeniable.” the university student laughed, “I’m happy for him. And for you all, it’s nice to know that everything’s going well. I… I promise I will be there to see your final match as Karasuno’s libero, and the other third-years, too.” His broad shoulders sagged, gaze low, “I honestly miss being there on the court with you and the others. It’s… sad to know that it will never happen again.” he mumbled. And Nishinoya swore that he could see the tears welling up in his eyes, behind those elegant, slim rectangular glasses that suited him so well. 

Nishinoya’s features softened as he extended his arms over the table, now kneeling instead of sitting down, and cupped his boyfriend’s bearded face delicately, rubbing his cheeks with callous thumbs, “Oi, oi. Asahi, don’t be sad. We’re still alive, you know? One day, we’ll all meet again and play together. Maybe not this year, maybe not next year nor the following one, but someday. I swear. Come on, ace, there’s no need to be upset over this.” he smiled, trying to force the sad frown away from Asahi’s face— he looked seconds away from bursting out in tears, and Nishinoya found that terrifying. Just the thought of Asahi being sad had always made something shift in his chest and guts, creating sinking and heavy sensation inside of him, something plummeting deep down. Nishinoya hated it.

The shorter boy retreated his arms when he saw the waiter coming toward them, a tray in his hands; he placed the bowls down, and poured the tea, leaving the teapot right there for them to use. He bowed and wished them a good evening before disappearing again, just like that.

“Let’s dig in, shall we?” he said, catching Asahi’s gaze. The latter nodded, flashing a tiny smile.

Food did make things better. After a couple of slurps, the sparkle had returned to Asahi’s eyes, and he looked significantly less sad than earlier; Nishinoya was more relaxed too, now. 

“Hey, you still haven’t told me anything about how it is to be a third-year senpai in front of the little first-years!” Asahi exclaimed, mouth still full, “Satisfying, isn’t it?”

“Ooh, totally! They listen to me no matter what I say, and I also get a fair amount of praising whenever I show them my moves. I have to say, one of them is catching up rapidly, he’ll make a good libero next year.” Nishinoya admitted, slurping his yakisoba loudly between one sentence and the other, “Yachi also managed to recruit a new manager, and she said she’ll find someone else too next year. The more, the better, right?”

“I agree, managers are life saviours. The more, the better.” Asahi laughed, “So you’re having fun, from what I hear... I’m glad, Yuu.”

“Yeah, it’s nice. Still, those bastards that you and I call friends are totally pissing me off. Especially Tsukishima, who’s also misleading the first-years. One of them dared laugh at my Rolling Thunder Double once, and he’d never done _that_ before. Guess who taught him? Four-eyed bastard. No offense, glasses suit you, baby.”

Asahi laughed, covering his mouth, “Still fighting with Tsukishima, eh? You guys never change!”

“He’s a jerk sometimes, come on! Plus, he and the other second-years completely ignore the fact that I’m older than them and that they should be more reverential toward me. They call me ‘Noya’ just like that. Seriously, these guys treat me as if I were a child or something! That’s not the right way to treat your senpai, without using the proper title and all. At least Shōyō used to call me ‘Noya-san’ until a few months ago, but he stopped. They’re all seriously treating me like a baby.” he pouted, exaggerating his bitterness to earn a laugh from his boyfriend. He succeeded.

“W-well, you sort of are a child, no?”

“Should I remind you that I’m actually over two months older than Chikara? Yet people treat him as if he were my senpai… Unbelievable.” he said, rolling his eyes.

Asahi hummed, “Maybe that’s because he’s—”

“Don’t say ‘taller’ or I’ll come for your kneecaps, Azumane.”

“I was gonna say ‘because he’s the Captain’!” Asahi fretted, hands waving frantically in mid-air, “But, yeah, he’s also a lot taller than you, and that makes him look older.” he muttered under his breath, sparing Nishinoya a sly look. The latter gritted his teeth, and pouted, face turning of a faint red hue.

“Whatever..!” Nishinoya hummed, “I'm one of the oldest senpai. Doesn't that sound cool?”

“Yeah, no. Sorry.” he said, struggling to fight a snicker.

“Asahi! Did Tōkyō make you meaner, or what? Geez, you’re not one of those ‘city boys’ now, are you?” Nishinoya asked jokingly, sipping at his tea, “Ryuu won’t be happy to hear that you’re one of the enemies, now.”

“I’m sorry, I guess that big cities just change you, willy-nilly. I miss it here, it’s so quiet and familiar!” Asahi exhaled, nostalgic as he thought about how hard it had been for him to get accustomed to Tōkyō’s frenetic rhythms; he was still trying to find the right pace, to be fair. 

“Speaking of that, how’s uni? We haven’t talked about it since when we met for your birthday.” Nishinoya asked, “Are you far from becoming the new Vorsaci?”

“It’s… It’s _Versace,_ and yes, I'm very far from that.” Asahi chuckled, “I’m only on my first year, I’m still learning the basics. But it’s fun, I like this faculty. It’s plenty of interesting people, and the Profs are cool. One day I will design and sew something for you, if you want.”

“Oh, I’d love that! I can be your model, I’ll even do it for free.”

“I wouldn’t have thought about paying you anyway, so— I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” 

Nishinoya was already on his knees, ready to jump on Asahi and tackle him to the ground, and he would have definitely done that if they hadn’t been in a public place. 

Now that he thought about it, they’d both finished their dinner, so it was fine for them to leave and maybe go to his place— his parents weren’t there, since his mother was on a business trip and his father worked the night shift and wouldn't be back home until late morning. Not that they had anything against their son and Asahi being together, anyway.

Asahi seemed to have read his mind as he got up, putting his shoes back on as he eyed Nishinoya, knowing. As Nishinoya finished paying the check, since he’d insisted on being the one to treat Asahi tonight, the taller man stood outside, glancing up at the pitch-black sky, streets dimly lit thanks to a few lamp posts here and there. Hot puffs of air escaped his slightly chapped lips, as he rubbed his gloved hands, a faint attempt at warming up a bit. Finally, he heard his boyfriend saying goodbye to the staff, and he turned around.

“Alright, let’s get going!” Nishinoya chirped out, grabbing one of Asahi’s still muscular arms and wrapping his own around it, “I can’t wait to finally snuggle under the blankets with you, babe.”

“Same! I also bought a hoodie for a certain someone.” he winked.

“Asahi! We said ‘no random presents’!” Nishinoya gasped. Asahi rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly, “It’s not a present, just… It’s like I owe it to you, no? Plus, I don’t wear hoodies anymore, I’m a cool kid now.” he joked, chest puffed in pretend-boast. 

Nishinoya laughed, “Fine, okay. Oh, off-topic, but we could take a bus from here, it’d take us close to my house. Like, we’d only have to walk for five minutes instead of twenty-five.”

“Sounds fine by me. Walking in this weather is tiring, I’ll gladly just hop on a bus, now.” Asahi admitted, visibly shaking for the cold. 

Nishinoya nodded, squinting to decipher the bus timetable, “Okay, a bus should be here in, huh, about five minutes or so.” he told Asahi, “Maybe less since there doesn’t seem to be too much traffic at this hour.” The older guy nodded, smiling, grateful for their luck.

He made his way toward Nishinoya, who was still looking at the timetable with a lost look in his eyes, and wrapped his arms around the boy, knees slightly bent to hold him tight in a more comfortable position; Asahi felt the warmth of Nishinoya’s body, of his breath near his face, of the strong arms that quickly made their way around Asahi’s torso to hug him back. 

“I was thinking about the fact that, maybe, after I graduate we could go somewhere together during the holidays.” Nishinoya spoke, “I can’t afford anything too far for now, but I’ve always dreamt about visiting Egypt. Pyramids are kinda cool, you know?”

Asahi nodded, not moving from his position, “If not this year, next one, or whenever we’ll both be able to afford it. Yeah… Egypt sounds very nice. I’m short on money too, actually, but what about going to Okinawa in summer? Just the two of us.”

“Nice! I started saving money when I started my part-time job some months ago, so I should totally be able to afford a trip to Okinawa in a few months!”

“Same thing, dear.” Asahi spoke softly into Nishinoya’s spiky hair, “I love you. You know that, right, Yuu?” 

The shorter boy pulled away from the hug, and gingerly cradled Asahi’s face in his cold hands, smiling in return, “I know. And I love you too, Asahi.” He stood on his toes now, and Asahi pitched forward again, grinning. Almost missing the bus in that weather was a gut-wrecking experience, but for a kiss, it was totally worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR HELPING ME OUT WITH THE MATH HERE @THE_WEIRD_GIRL.  
> -  
> hey, yesterday (Oct 10) was Noya's birthday! Happy birthday, you lil funky guy.  
> -  
> I do not own Versace, felt like I should specify it. You never know...  
> -  
> ❗ Don't read and run ❗ leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed this, please. Your support means the world to me :D  
> -  
> ⚠️Oct 21: chapter 7 will be delayed of a couple of days because I've been sick for a while, so expect it to be published on the 23rd instead of today. I will post chapter 8 in five days (the minimum time between updates is normally eight days) after the release of chapter 7, in order to be back to the usual schedule. Sorry!!⚠️


	7. KuroKen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo: 28 years old.  
> Kenma: 27 years old.  
> -  
> ⚠️if anyone complains that "you said that Kenma's enby but you still used he/him pronouns! You must use they/them! Enbies can't use gendered pronouns!" I, as a non-binary person who goes by l*i/they/them, will come for your soul :) leave enby fellas who use gendered pronouns alone, thanks. In this house we support and respect all lgbtq+ folks (if you don't, leave. I'm serious).

Kuroo glanced at the kitchen's clock, not stopping as he kept stirring the broth; he sighed, trying not to worry too much. It was unusual for Kenma to be that late, especially in winter, given how sensitive to the cold he was. A strong, icy wind had been blowing on Tōkyō for the past week, and as if that hadn't been enough, rain hadn't stopped pouring since the night prior. _Did Kenma have an umbrella with him..?_

The young businessman shook his head, and resumed focusing on preparing dinner; he was not going to let Kenma eat cupramen for the third time that week. Kuroo was almost always in charge for preparing the meals, though he rarely had food at home at lunch, always too busy with the Japan Volleyball Association to go back home in the middle of the day. Still, before work, he would always prepare bentō that Kenma could eat during the day.

Finally, he heard the doorknob move; it was roughly eight in the afternoon when Kenma stepped into the house, drenched in rain, dripping down on the genkan; he took his shoes off, but kept the large, warm coat on. Gingerly, he glanced inside the apartment, feline eyes scanning forー 

“Good evening, Kenma!” Kuroo called from the kitchen, head poking from under the noren. “Why are you so late? Did anything happen on your way back from the arcade?”

 _Crap._ The shorter one shook his head, holding his coat tighter around himself, “I got distracted, sorry.” he said, and headed for the bedroom without another word, ot tried to do so as Kuroo intercepted him midway, his noticeably bigger stance forcing Kenma to stop on his tracks. Golden gazes met, and the taller man squinted at his partner, lips quivering in suspicion. 

“Wh-what?”

“What did you do?” Kuroo inquired, leaning closer to Kenma's face, arms crossed on his chest. Kenma's eyes shot wide open, but he rapidly looked away, shrugging nonchalantly, “Nothing.”

Kuroo didn't let up, and only leaned closer and closer to Kenma's face, their noses brushing; Kenma's was humid, a little drop of what Kuroo hoped was rain and not snot dangled from the tip. "I don't trust you.”

Kenma smirked, bringing his head up and waving his left hand, “You put a ring on it, you gotta trust me.” he said, showing the ring, “Besides, if you don't let me go change you're going to be the one mopping the floor.”

The taller man clicked his tongue and backed away; just as he was about to step into the kitchen, a very distinct sound erupted from under Kenma's coat. They both stopped on their tracks, frozen. Kenma's eyes were wide and glued to his feet as he didn't move one single inch, and his husband whirled around, cocking an eyebrow.

“Kenma? What was that?”

“Mh?”

“That sound.”

“I-I don't know what you're talking abー”

Another distinct, muffled yet louder meowl ripped through the air from under Kenma's coat, and his face fell. Kuroo sighed.

“Kozume Kenma. What. Did you. Do.”

“Nothing at all, Kuroo Tetsurō.” He moved his hands under his coat, rummaging a bit before pulling out a tiny, white kitten, shaky and drenched in freezing water, so small that it fit into Kenma's hand. “Congrats on your daughter, Tetsu!” he grinned.

“...You can't be serious.” Kuroo sighed.

Kenma shrugged, “My house, my rules.”

“I pay the mortgage too, you know?”

“Still, I bought it.” Kenma bickered, trying to broaden his shoulder in order to appear bigger, not that it served any particular purpose. Kuroo's eyes softened as he scratched the back of his neck, sighing, “Kenma, baby, we can't keep it.” he said, slowly.

 _“Her._ And, why not? It's not like we can't afford it.”

“It's not... that. But I'm never home during the day, and you're busy with work all the time. This creature needs attention and care, I wouldn't want to leave itー her alone from morning to night.”

“I can work from home and go out only when I know that you're here.” Kenma reasoned, walking over the kitchen. He grabbed a towel and started dabbing the tiny kitten with it, delicately. “Besides, cats can survive on their own. This girl has been living in a smelly alley since she was born, probably, and she's at least six months old. It's better for her to have a home to go back to after she goes out, and food available when she needs it, rather than spending her existence in the streets.”

Kuroo nodded, hesitant, “That's certainly true, but... It takes a lot of responsibility to take care of a living being. Are we responsible enough for that? I don't think so, personally.”

"Tetsu, we have had a home of our own and stable jobs since the age of twenty-three. Nobody's more responsible than us!"

“Keeping a real cat alive isn't the same as keeping a Pokémon." Kuroo argued, eyeing the kitten, “What if she gets into a fight with a stray? What if we feed her too little or too much? Like, I don't want to risk hurting her.”

Kenma's gaze softened. So that's what Kuroo was worried about. He put the towel down and gently placed his free hand on Kuroo's cheek, rubbing it with the thumb, “You're going to do just fine. We are. Don't worry, Tetsu, we're going to be good parents.”

“Don't talk about the cat as if she were a person, I don't want to get too attached. Not yet, anyway.” Kuroo confessed, “I... I will call a vet and book an appointment for tomorrow. I mean, we gotta check if she's chipped already, and if she needs shots and whatnot." he said, blushing slightly as he felt his partner's knowing eyes scanning him.

"You're adorable, Tetsu."

“Stop it. You're guilt-tripping me into loving this cat. And I will only because I love you.” Kuroo snorted. “Let's have dinner first, and then we'll think about the kitten.”

“Oh, dinner, I forgot about that.” Kenma gasped, “Wait, you waited for me?”

“Duh. Come in ten minutes, I gotta set the table and finish up with the dish.” Kuroo mumbled, and left for the kitchen. Kenma trotted toward the bathroom, grinning at the kitten as he hopped up the stairs.

“See? I told you! He's grumpy, but he's not mean.” he told the cat, “Give him a couple of days and he'll be petting you whenever you're within reach.” The kitten mewled, sound sharp yet low, and Kenma chuckled. He placed the cat down for a moment, shutting the bathroom's door behind him. He showered quickly, and wrapped his long hair in a towel before putting on some comfortable clothes and heading downstairs for dinner, taking the cat, still envelopped in the kitchen towel, with him.

"What did you make? It smells good!”

“Curry. And, huh, I opened a tuna can for the cat. I don't know what else to give her, now, but I'll go buy some cat food before work, tomorrow.” he said, nodding at a tiny plate on the floor. Kenma smiled and placed the cat near her food. He then sat in front of the low table, whiffing the boiling curry rice in front of him; he brought his gaze up, and noticed how Kuroo looked somehow... sad.

He cleared his throat, poking at the curry, "I was thinking about naming her Zelda."

Kuroo snorted, "No, I won't allow you to name a cat after a videogame."

"Why not!? Everyone does it." Kenma pouted.

"At least pick a name from some anime or whatever. Besides, Zelda doesn't sound harsh enough. If you were to tell her to stop doing something, it wouldn't work. Like... 'Zelda, stop it!'" Kuroo yelled, pretending to yell at the cat. He clicked his tongue, "See? She didn't even flinch."

"That's because she doesn't know that Zelda's her name, yet." Kenma argued, crossing his arms. 

"And she will never know because her name will never be Zelda." the taller man nodded, "I was thinking about..." His expression fell in an instant, and he trailed off. Kenma's thin smile vanished, and he looked at his husband in mild concern. That wasn't like Kuroo at all.

Kenma's heart constricted in his chest as he hesitantly brought a hand to rest on Kuroo's fist, “What's wrong? Are you... okay?”

“Mh? Oh, y-yeah, it's nothing.” Kuroo shrugged, squeezing Kenma's hand tight before releasing it and busying himself with the curry, stuffing his cheeks as he eyed the plate, staying quiet. Kenma's stomach twisted uncomfortably. “Don't you like the curry?" he asked Kenma, seeing how he wasn't touching the food anymore, "I got distracted earlier. Maybe it's overcooked…”

“No, no, the curry's delicious. It's just... You seem sad. Is it because of the cat? Do you despise her that much?” Kenma asked, unsure. He couldn't phantom how a little cat would be able to upset Kuroo that much, when literally nothing else did. He'd never seen his husband looking so distraught, and it frankly scared him beyond possible. He removed the towel from his head and draped it around his neck, playing with a bicolored lock nervously.

“I’m not sad, just… pensive. Don’t worry, I’m okay, Kenma.” the man smiled. And he would have looked convincing to anyone else, but not to Kenma, who knew his husband better than anyone in the world. He put the spoon down, and scooted over closer to Kuroo, who eyed him as if he had a third eye. “The curry’s going to get cold.”

“I don’t care. Please, Tetsurō, talk to me.” Kenma called, ditching the usual nickname, gaze penetrating, “You know I don’t like it when people hide things for me.”

“I know you don’t.” Kuroo exhaled, nodding his head in the slightest, “But I’m not hiding anything important, I promise.”

“I don’t care if it’s ‘important’ or not. You’re definitely hiding something and I don’t like it. Tell me what’s on your mind, roosterhead.” he said, trying to coax the man out of his shell.

Kuroo couldn’t fight the snicker, “That’s mean. You know I can’t help having this bedhead.” he laughed, “But, seriously, it’s nothing. It’s… It’s stupid, okay?”

“I wouldn’t laugh at you.”

“I never said you would. But… I don’t know, it’s really silly and it’s irrelevant now.” Kuroo explained, “I don’t want you to worry for nothing.”

Kenma hummed, “If you think that what you’re going to say is worrisome, then I know it is. Come on, spill.” he said, lying down and placing his head on Kuroo’s lap, looking up at him as the latter cradled his partner’s blonde and black hair delicately, careful not to pull it.

The businessman’s shoulders relaxed a bit, but his breath was somewhat hitched, “I… When I was a kid, my grandpa found a cat in a ditch. I was eight. Grandpa had brought the cat to his place, where I used to go every weekend. It was a boy, Kōji. Like Mazinger Z’s main character, you know?” he asked. Kenma nodded, silent, “He’d let me name him. He- he was a nice cat. He was kind and never scratched anyone, ever. I mean, he was a bit dumb and sometimes very noisy, but I loved him. And... And one day, when I was twelve, after going out as usual, he didn’t come back. It was a Saturday night so I was staying at my grandpa’s place, that’s why I noticed Kōji’s absence.” Kuroo said, voice low, eyes averting Kenma’s and fixing themselves on the kitten, still busy with the tuna.

“Testu…”

“Grandpa and I went out to look for him. We looked everywhere, until two-something in the morning, but we couldn’t find him anywhere. I… I don’t think I’ve ever cried as much as I did back then. You may remember how I skipped school for three days in a row because I had a high fever.”

“I do, now that you mention it…”

Kuroo let out a bitter laugh, “I lied, that wasn’t a fever. I was just… devastated.” he confessed, voice low and watery. Still, he didn’t shed a single tear.

“Did heー?”

“I don’t know. We never found out. Maybe he just… wandered off and went to live somewhere else. I mean, Kōji lived for three years as a stray before being brought in by my grandpa, he knew the streets well enough.” Kuroo shrugged, “I just don’t want anything to happen to this kitten as well. I know it’s selfish of me, but… I don’t want to go through that again. Maybe I’d react differently now, I’m a grown-up, afterall, but I don’t want to risk it.” Kuroo finished, and immediately pursed his lips together in a thin line, trying to hide their quivering.

Kenma straightened up, and gently enveloped his husband in a tight, warm hug, letting him bury his head into Kenma’s shoulder; he could feel his heartbeat and warmth, the scent of cherry-scented soap and the humidity coming from the damp towel in which his hair was still wrapped. “I’m sorry for what happened, baby.” he breathed out, soft, “If the cat’s presence makes you feel _this_ bad, then I’ll ask some friends of mine if they’d like to take her in.”

“N-no, no, it’s fine. I… I want to get over this, I have to. Besides, I saw the smile on your face as you were looking at her earlier.” Kuroo replied, shaking his head, “As long as you let me name her, it’s good.”

Kenma chuckled, “Convincing you was easier than expected!” 

“I know, I’m a simple man.” Kuroo bit back, raising his head and erasing the distance between his and Kenma’s soft lips. The former Nekoma captain’s hands went up to his setter’s face, as he cradled it and brought it even closer, squishing it gently; Kenma nibbled at Kuroo’s lower lip, earning a chuckle from the taller man, and then he grabbed the collar of his shirt, drawing his chest closer. Kuroo slowly sank toward the floor, Kenma’s body on his, when he suddenly pulled away from the greedy kiss, eyes wide.

“Wh-what?” Kenma asked, baffled, “Was my kiss that bad..?”

“No! God, no. It’s… Do you smell that?” Kuroo asked, sniffing the air. Kenma did too, and cringed. They both turned around from their position, eyeing the cat with a suspicious squint. Then, their gazes met again. 

“Tetsuー”

“Shotgun!” the man yelled out, squirming out from under Kenma’s body and letting his partner drop down on the floor, as he ran far from the table, one foot on the stairs already.

“Shotgun doesn’t work like that!” Kenma yelled back, propping himself up on his elbows, “Come back, you fucker! Don’t leave me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for making this shorter than the others and for being two whole days late. I got sick to the point of not being able to look at the computer for long enough to write a single sentence (the notes I took in class are… yikes) and couldn't manage to make anything longer than this. Also, the ideas I have for KuroKen are mostly sickfics but I wanted to keep this, huh, not-gross, hence the short chapter (fluff sometimes is hard to write). Please forgive me, I'll do better. Expect chapter 8 to be published by Monday night (I'm in gmt+1). Also, please check out my Yamaguchi sickfic [(don't) hold it](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27035122) and the list of [Haikyuu!! sickfic headcanons](https://theforgottendaydreamer.tumblr.com/post/632601838925053952/haikyuu-sickhurt-characters-headcanons-karasuno) I posted on Tumblr. See you soon!


	8. IwaOi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi: 23 years old.  
> Oikawa: 23 years old.  
> -  
> ⚠️ they're naked at some point, but nothing nsfw happens onscreen. Also, non-graphic depiction and discussion of injury.

Oikawa grunted, throwing his head back against the wall in frustration, “I can’t believe this.”

“It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t pushed yourself like that, idiot.” Iwaizumi grunted, sitting on the edge of the bed. Oikawa was propped up with his back against the wall, his arms crossed as he pouted; under his right knee, there were a couple of spare pillows, and Iwaizumi had put an icepack on the injury, trying to soothe the pain that his boyfriend was feelingー not that he’d ever admit it out loud. 

Oikawa had been training in the gym for two whole hours, before his already weak knee had decided against it: the dull sensation spreading from that joint had become something along the lines of a painful stabbing sensation, like a pike that had been forcefully lodged into the bone, and Oikawa had crumbled to the floor like a sack of wet cement. After a few instants during which everything felt so distant and numb, the young player had managed to prop himself up and reassure the staff that he was okay, that he’d just tripped. Slowly, gingerly, he’d made his way to the locker room, where he’d immediately called Iwaizumi, scared out of his mind as he rambled about how _“Holy shit, I think I broke my knee. F-fuck. Please come get me, Hajime, I beg you. I-it hurts, it’s definitely broken... I don’t feel well, pl-please, come here now.”_

Iwaizumi had managed to somewhat calm him down on the phone, reassuring him that he wouldn’t have been able to move that much on a broken kneeー he was a sports medicine doctor, afterall, he was bound to know some things. Still, he’d arrived at the gym as fast as he could, about twenty minutes later, and had managed to haul Oikawa in the car and drove him to their shared apartment. Each step had been agonizing, to the point where Oikawa couldn’t even hold the tears back. 

And now, there they were, Oikawa in his underwear and dirty shirt, and Iwaizumi on the verge of an anger-mixed-with-worry fit.

The young doctor sighed as he eyed his boyfriend in mild annoyance and concern; he’d told Oikawa not to do certain exercises, he’d told him to take it easy, but that man never listened. He sighed once again and got off the bed, and retrieved a chair that he put next to the bed, at Oikawa’s knee’s height. 

“Wh-what are you doing?” Oikawa fretted, fists curling up as he tightened the hold around himself more. “D-don’t touch it, please.”

“Calm down, I’m not going to hurt you.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, “It’s going to be alright, I know what I’m doing. Now let me work.”

Oikawa bit his lower lip, and if he had to be honest, Iwaizumi did feel bad; he hated seeing his boyfriend in pain, though he had it coming for not listening to Iwizumi’s advice. As soon as he pulled the icepack away, he felt Oikawa stiffen, and glanced at him; he was pale as a sheet of paper, a fine tremble running through his body, eyes glued on Iwaizumi's hands, but the latter noticed that Oikawa didn’t look as if he was in pain.

“You okay?” he asked nonetheless, “I didn’t even do anything yet.”

“M’fine, I justー I don’t want this to hurt.”

“Tōru, I won’t hurt you, I promise. I mean, if I _really_ wanted to I’d throw a ball at your face or something, but it’s not fun to hurt you when you’re already in pain.” Iwaizumi joked, shrugging, and Oikawa chuckled, relaxing visibly. 

“Iwa-chan~, so mean!”

“Don’t call me that, Shittykawa.”

“Alright, fine. Just… be careful, please.” Oikawa said, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. He trusted Iwaizumi with his whole being, but he couldn't shake away the fear of feeling pain.

The sports medicine doctor nodded, flashing a tiny smile, “I always am.” He gently slid one hand under the knee, the other one resting just below the knee, on the upper shin. Iwaizumi didn’t need to ask Oikawa about his lifestyle or about the source of the injury, so that sped things up; still, he took his time to bend the leg, carefully, watching out for any sign of pain from Oikawa, and rotating the knee gently, humming to himself. “As usual, it’s probably your medial meniscus, but you'd have to take more thorough exams, like X-rays and ultrasounds, in order to confirm that. I'm already sure it's just like last time, though. Afterall, preexisting conditions and injuries are likely to cause trouble whenever you exceed your limitsー”

“I did not.” Oikawa pouted, “It’s not that, it must be something else”. Iwaizumi clicked his tongue, and pulled his hands away, crossing his arms as he nodded his chin.

“You’re probably right. You’re clearly more qualified for this than me, Tōru.” he said, getting up and stretching, “You know, your knee’s still intact, all things considered, and I’m curious to see how long it’ll take to break. My guess is, huh, a year or so.” Iwaizumi snorted. Oikawa sighed, long and deep.

“Don’t act like that. Just, let me brood in peace. Shit.” he growled, voice uncharacteristically low, “I _have_ to train, there’s no other option for me, Hajime. I was born to do this in life and I won't let a stupid bone stop me.”

“Technically, it’s bone _and_ cartilageー” Iwaizumi corrected under his breath, “Listen, babe, I get it. Believe me, I do. But…” he got up from the chair and sat back on the bed, “I can’t let you do this to yourself. Jokes aside, if you don’t take it easy you’re going to be put under the knife soon. And while that will certainly help with the pain, I can’t grant you that you’d be able to play normally, not for a while.” he said, and grabbed one of Oikawa’s fist, bringing it close to his mouth and planting a delicate kiss on it; he then cradled the hand close to his chest, in a surprisingly caring gestureー he’d never been the cuddly type, honestly. The player’s gaze softened, all anger gone, “I know. Fuck, Hajime, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine, it’s okay. I… I’m just asking you to take it easy and do the exercises I’ve been telling you about for ages. They’d help, I promise.” Iwaizumi reassured, trying to catch his boyfriend’s gaze, “So please, _please_ don’t do anything sports-related for at least a couple of days and just let me take care of you for the time being.” 

Oikawa chuckled, malicious, “That sounds nice. Do take care of me however you please, doc.”

“I said no physical activity for at least two days, and that includes _that.”_ Iwaizumi smirked, “See? If you’d listened, we could’ve had fun later… Well, too bad you’re an idiot, Oikawa-san.” he murmured, leaning closer and closer to Oikawa’s face. The player chuckled, wrapping his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, and he finally erased the distance between them, bringing his mouth forward; Iwaizumi delicately nibbled his boyfriend’s lower lip, earning a surprised moan in response. His hands cupped Oikawa’s face, and swung a leg on the other side of his boyfriend’s body; now he was towering Oikawa, propped on his knees, hands still busy with the other’s face, one leg at each side of Oikawa’s body. The latter’s grip tightened, and he slid his tongue inside Iwaizumi’s slightly agape mouth, savouring his taste. Suddenly, Oikawa’s eyes snapped open, and what escaped his mouth could have admittedly been mistaken for a moan of pleasure, but it was far from that now. He broke the kiss and bit a scream back, pearls of cold sweat dripping down his forehead. 

Iwaizumi looked puzzled for a brief instant, before he gasped in realisation and looked down at Oikawa’s leg, “Tōru! Oh shit, did I hurt you?”

“N-no, it wasn’t you, baby. The knee just started hurting out of nowhere!” Oikawa whimpered, visibly frustrated, “This bastard won’t even let me make out in peace. Fuck!” 

“What kind of pain is it? Do you feel a burning sensation? Or like there’s liquid where it’s not supposed to be? Talk to me.”

“N-no, it’s the same as before, itー it feels like I have a pole up the knee and to the hip. Sh-shit."

Iwaizumi’s gaze softened as he pulled himself to his feet, and took Oikawa’s chin in his hand, crouching down a bit, “It’s okay, give it some time, babe. It's not damaged beyond repair, I can guarantee you that. Just take it easy for now, don’t panic.”

“I’m not!”

“I know, I’m just saying.” Iwaizumi replied, though he could see how frantic his boyfriend’s eyes looked, scanning the knee as if he could somehow see what was going on underneath the skin; he was definitely spiraling at that point. The doctor cradled Oikawa’s soft hair with extreme delicacy, offering a tiny smile, “Tōru, please trust me on this. Do you trust me? I wouldn’t lie to you, you know that, right?”

Oikawa nodded, smiling gently at his boyfriend; Iwaizumi could be kinder than what he looked like. He sighed, “I’m sorry. Man, I’m so whiny, huh?” Oikawa added a choked, bitter laugh.

“You’ve got a real reason to complain, it must hurt terribly. I _know_ it does, even if I've never experienced it myself. I just wish you'd actually listen to pieces of advice I give you instead of being so damn stubborn.” Iwaizumi confessed, though his tone concealed worry rather than resentment, “I don’t want to see you suffer more than this. You get it, right?”

“Baby, I know you care, I really do. I promise I’ll listen, okay?” Oikawa smiled, seeming sincere to Iwaizumi’s eyes, “Now… Can you get me some painkillers, please? It… it really hurts.” he added, blushing slightly. If there was one thing that he disliked, more than a certain left-handed stalker and a certain milk-maniac, was admitting that he needed help. He’d never minded complaining, but openly asking for anything always made him feel as if he were guilty of an unspeakably horrible crime.

Iwaizumi’s facial features softened, sympathetic, “No, you can’t take painkillers yet, not on an empty stomach. I'll go make something quick so that you can take some, though.” he murmured, getting up.

“But I don't want to wait..!”

“Doesn't matter what you want, you just have to.” the doctor shrugged, and his boyfriend stuck his tongue out, pouting for the umpteenth time that day, though playfully in that moment. “Fine, fine. I’ll come down to the kitchen with you, then!”

“No, keep that leg elevated and don’t take the icepack off, stupid.”

Oikawa groaned, summoning his best puppy-eyes a second later, “Would you really leave your poor, injured boyfriend all alone like that? Just me, my boredom and I?” 

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi deadpanned. He thanked his fast reflexes as he grabbed a pillow that Oikawa had thrown at him, yelling “You’re so mean, Hajime! I wish I had my fangirls here with me~”

“You can leave whenever, I just hope you’re good enough at hopping on one leg.” Iwizumi smirked, flipping him off, “Besides, they wouldn’t want to stay close to you, since you reek of sweat.”

Oikawa gasped, taking a whiff of his sweat-soaked shirt and cringing, “Phew! Well, I can’t deny anything.” he admitted, “I stink now.”

“You always do.”

“Untrue! I've been told that I actually smell like milk, for your information.”

“Yeah, like rotten milk.”

“Oi! Fuck you.”

“Hah, fuck me yourself, you coward.”

“I would, but someone annoying told me I can't.” he exhaled, shaking his head. He then raised his gaze, and cocked an eyebrow, “So… Wanna bathe with me?”

Iwaizumi stopped on the threshold, debating whether or not it was a good idea; he nodded his head before he realised what he was doing. “I’m gonna fill the tub and get everything ready. You stay here.” Iwaizumi said, heading for the bathroom before whirling around again and pointing a finger at Oikawa, a scold on his face, “If I see you moving around, I’m going to drown you so that you won’t have to worry about the knee anymore.”

“Don’t worry, _mommy,_ I’m going to stay put.” the other replied, hands up in midair, an innocent aurea lingering around him. Iwaizumi clicked his tongue and left.

After a few minutes, during which Oikawa checked his mail inbox and whatnot, Iwaizumi came back and walked up to the bed, offering a hand, “I’ll be your crutch. Speaking of which, I’m going to the pharmacy to rent a pair tomorrow.” he said. His boyfriend grinned, grateful, and slowly swung his legs down the bed, hissing and biting his tongue as a painful pang shot up from his knee. Iwaizumi slid one of his arms under Oikawa’s armpit, and then hauled him up. “Don’t put your foot down yet.”

“I know, I know.” he whimpered, breathing in and out slowly, “Let’s just hurry, please. I need to sit.”

They reached the bathroom quickly, and Iwaizumi brought a plastic stool forward, forcing Oikawa to sit down on it. “Can you take your boxers off by yourself? If not, I can help.”

“My, Hajime, always so slickー kidding, I’m kidding!”

“Don’t make me _accidentally_ kick you.” Iwaizumi threatened, squinting his eyes. He took his clothes off, and Oikawa did get distracted for an instant by the sight before working on getting naked too.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me since I’m already injured...” he joked, masking the pain he was going through as his knee was getting jostled and tangled in his underwear.

“I may have changed my mind just now.”

Iwaizumi grabbed a basin and started filling it with water, before handing the shower head to Oikawa, “Here. I’ll use the bowl for now.” he murmured, before dunking the lukewarm water on his head, sighing in relief at the pleasant sensation. Oikawa showered too, careful to avoid that the tube connected to the shower head would get tangled around his knee or anywhere near it. 

“Can you clean my back?” he asked.

“Ah? Oh, yeah, sure thing.” Iwaizumi replied, and started washing Oikawa’s back, “Man, your muscles are so tense, it’s not good for your shoulders and back. Fatigue can causeー”

“Doctor Iwaizumi, as much as I find your cultured, sexy doctor talk exciting, I’d rather not hear about how my muscles are going to kill me in my sleep or whatever.” Oikawa blurted out, glancing over his shoulder, “Besides, you should worry about _your_ muscles, facial ones especially. Relax, my man!”

“I _am_ relaxed.” Iwaizumi growled.

“You’re not! You’re always brooding, you remind me of Tobio-chan… I wonder what that bastard’s up to. Not that I care, of course.”

“Why do you call him ‘Tobio-chan’ and then ‘bastard’? It’s controversial.” Iwaizumi scoffed, “By the way, I’m done. Let’s get into the tub already.”

Oikawa nodded, and waited for Iwaizumi to help him stand and lower him into the hot, scented water. It felt amazing on his skin, nerves relaxing instantly as he dove under up to his chin, sighing in evident relief; Iwaizumi stepped inside too, careful not to hit Oikawa’s leg. The latter giggled, bringing the foot of his healthy leg up and waving it in front of Iwaizumi’s face, who uncerimoniously swatted it away, “You’re such a kinky bastard.”

“You’re the one who thought about that, I barely brought my foot up.” Oikawa grinned, and Iwaizumi couldn’t hide the blush, “And by the way, I just wanted a massage.”

“Huh? Does it hurt too? I’m not a physical therapist, you should contact someone who canー”

“Oh my God, Hajime, I’m trying to initiate something with you! Just do it. My, you’re so clueless.”

Iwaizumi cocked an eyebrow; he delicately grabbed Oikawa’s ankle and lowered it back in the water, “No. I said no physical activity for a week.”

“A wー you said two days, earlier!” Oikawa screeched, distraught.

“Oh? Do you want to go against a professional’s words?”

The player sighed in mild annoyance and defeat. “Fine! Killjoy.” Iwaizumi chuckled, visibly amused by the whole ordeal. Oikawa didn’t appreciate it, obviously, and he demonstrated that by splashing copious amounts of water on Iwaizumi, who counterattacked in the same way. 

“Now it’s on!”

“You started it!” Iwaizumi grinned, and flung himselfー _very_ carefullyー on Oikawa, assuming the same position they were in in the bed earlier. The player jokingly pushed him away, but couldn’t fight a snicker as Iwaizumi started blowing raspberries on his neck, tickling him. “No, stop, stop!” he cried, laughing to the point where there were tears pooling at the corner of his eyes, “How does this not count as ‘physical activity’!?”

“I’m the sports medicine doctor here, my words are final.” Iwaizumi bit, smirking; he cupped Oikawa’s face, rubbing his cheeks with his thumbs, “My God, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, despite everything.”

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?” Iwaizumi laughed, not really offended, “You call me ‘mean’ and then act like the meanest man on the planet. So rude, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa bit his lower lip, eyes filled with love and lust, “I like it when you use my last name~”

“I know you do.” Iwaizumi winked, before kissing his boyfriend; their tongues danced and twirled, lips quivering in satisfied smiles. Oikawa cradled Iwaizumi’s damp hair and toyed with it, accidentally pulling it every now and then, but not stopping, and the young doctor let his mouth trail down Oikawa’s neck, sucking on it and marking him. Then, he pulled apart, fanned.

“We should stop.”

“Wha’? Why?” Oikawa asked, eyebrows knitted in confusion, “Was it not enjoyable enough toー” 

“The opposite, it worked wonders, and I wouldn’t be able to stop me if we went further, but I’m dead serious when I say that you can’t jostle your knee too much. Sorry, babe.” Iwaizumi explained, visibly mortified. Oikawa rolled his chocolate eyes, but shrugged, “I guess you’re right. Let’s just watch a movie for tonight, then.”

After a final, soft kiss, Iwaizumi exited from the water and retrieved a towel for himself and one for Oikawa, before helping him out of the tub and getting him seated down on the stool from before. “What would you like for dinner?”

“Mh, we could order something, maybe..? I mean, it’s almost 8:30 PM, I don’t want you to start cooking now.” Oikawa reasoned, “There’s a new Thai restaurant that opened a month ago or so, I heard it’s good. Wanna try it?”

Iwaizumi nodded, “Sounds good, I’ve been craving Thai for a while.” He got up and grabbed his phone from the bedroom, before leaning against the doorframe, only the towel wrapped around his hips concealing his pelvic area; still, Oikawa had his imagination left. The man searched the place’s name online and ordered, all while Oikawa dried his body and winked at Iwaizumi, who dismissed him with an exasperated look in his eyes. After a minute on the phone, Iwaizumi tossed the thing back on the bed. “Aight, the food will be here in less than half an hour.” 

“Ah, that’s great, I’m starving!” Oikawa said while clapping his hands, “Say, Hajime, can we eat in bed for tonight?”

The man pondered for an instant, “Well, it would be better for you to keep your knee elevated, and it’s hard to do that while you’re sitting on a chair… So I guess it’s fine, for tonight.” he concluded with a smile. 

“Ah, I love you so much~”

“You’re saying this just because I agreed to you eating in bed, aren’t you?”

“Well, not _only_ because of that… But mostly, now, yeah.” Oikawa chuckled, “It’s so rare for you to let me do that!”

“I’d let you eat in bed more often if you ever did the chores, but since I’ve seen you vacuuming twice in one year, I reserve the right to forbid you from making a mess in the bedroom.” Iwaizumi scolded.

“Hey! I _always_ do the dishes!” the player retorted, a finger up in the air. The other cocked an eyebrow, clicking his tongue.

“Tōru, my man, you literally only load and unload the dishwasher.” 

Oikawa gasped, “That takes a lot of effort!”

“And a total of, what, two minutes?” Iwaizumi laughed, “Don’t make me regret tonight’s choice and just admit that you’re terrible at taking care of the house.”

“I’m also always away because of matches and stuff! You know I’ll start playing for a very important team soon, right? I gotta keep my body in shape.”

“Or, you’re just messy as fuck.”

They bickered like that until the doorbell rang, and after dinner, Iwaizumi accidentally broke the rule he’d set only an hour prior. He didn’t regret it, and neither did Oikawa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a genetic meniscus malformation in both knees (can I get an F in the chat) so I kinda used my own experience to portray what Oikawa's going through...... also, I want what these two have! Like, I know I was the one to write this but guhhh my heart.  
> -  
> As promised, here's a new chapter, only three days after KuroKen: since it took me 12 days instead of 8-10 for the that one, I decided to post IwaOi earlier in order to be back to the usual schedule. I've also been working (read: worked on it for 45 minutes) on a nsfw IwaOi fic that I hope I'll be able to post tomorrow night. That's it for now... See you next week with YamaYachi!!


	9. YamaYachi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yamaguchi: 27 years old.  
> Yachi: 27 years old.  
> ー  
> ⚠️none.

The loud, rhythmic chirping of cicadas echoed in the streets on that sultry May evening. Dim, yellow light from scattered lampposts shone onto the dark pavement, illuminating the streets in the slightest for the few pedestrians who paced in the streets at that time, just around seven o’ clock. Yamaguchi rapidly walked toward his house, not too far from the station, leather briefcase tight in his hands as he took large steps to reach the domicile where his wife was waiting. He hadn’t heard from Yachi since lunch, and he was mildly worried that something might have happened, given how they’d usually exchange at least a couple of mails every hour, talking about whatnot during their breaks on the clock. Finally, he got a glimpse of their home, relief washing over him as he noticed how the bedroom light was on; Yachi was probably resting, as she should have been, then. 

The young electrical engineer fiddled with the keys and turned the right one into the lock, before throwing the door open and relaxing at the familiarity of his house coziness. “I’m home!” he called, clumsily taking his shoes off and flinging himself toward the bedroom upstairs.

On the bed, Yachi was laying with her back against the wall, a pillow placed under her bare ankles and her pc on her lap; honey eyes lit up at the sight of Yamaguchi, and she flashed a warm smile. She rapidly put her computer on the bedside table and proceeded to spread her arms to welcome him with a hug. “Welcome home.” 

Yamaguchi smiled too, calmer, and made his way toward the bed, sitting on the mattress and letting himself be enveloped into Yachi’s delicate hug, his head sinking in her shoulder as he took a whiff of her scent, so familiar and reassuring. Finally, he pulled away, but held her hands as he glanced at her. 

“I was worried something had happened, given how you haven’t texted me much.” he explained, “A-are you okay?” he added, fearful. For the first time that evening, Yamaguchi let his gaze trail toward his wife’s tummy, rounder and bigger than ever before. It was almost time, certainly. Just a couple of more weeks, according to the doctors. Just a couple of more weeks and they would have become parents.

“Oh, yes, I’m alright! Sorry, I fell asleep right after lunch and only woke up a hour ago. I figured that texting you after that would’ve only made you more anxious.” Yachi explained, letting her thumbs run up and down Yamaguchi’s hands, on their back. The man exhaled, nodding. She was right, of course she was.

She grinned, “This girl hasn’t stopped moving and kicking at all today, she’s a feisty one! I needed to rest a bit before continuing with my work.” Yachi explained releasing one of Yamaguchi’s hands and using her own to caress the belly, “I wonder who she got it from...”

“Not me, I’ve always been very quiet.” Yamaguchi sighed. He walked to the other side of the bed and laid down next to Yachi, propping himself on his side to rest his head on her chest, one hand on the belly, gentle, “You, on the other hand, give me the idea of someone who’s never stopped running around.”

Yachi laughed, and started to cradle her husband’s soft hair with her free hand, “Just because I’m clumsy, not because I’m active or anything of the sorts.” 

“I think that back in high school, you actually exercised more than me, though. At least for the first two years, before I became captain and had to reluctantly whip myself into shape.” Yamaguchi laughed, aware that his statement was a slight exaggeration. He’d always been athletic, just not lately: between work, Yachi’s pregnancy, the house that needed to be ready for the babyー it was a lot to handle. Yachi had also refused to stop working, and had continued to perfect her projects from home, much to Yamaguchi’s complaints. Speaking of that, the man eyed the computer, humming worriedly as he noticed how his wife was working instead of watching a movie and relaxing.

“You should take it easy, To.” he spoke softly, the familiar nickname rolling off his tongue with a tad of worry, “I mean, the doctor said that birth is due to twelve days by now, so you should rest up a bit more and not overexert yourself like this.”

Yachi laughed, “How am I ‘overexerted’ if all I do is lay in bed and type on my computer? Really, Dashi, don’t worry. I’m pregnant, not injured.” she explained. Her fingers played with the dark green locks, movements smooth and mindful not to pull the strands, nor to get them entangled in the wedding ring, “Besides, we were both born almost a week after the due date, weren’t we? I doubt that our baby will be out that soon.”

“Maybe you’re right.” he hummed, still caressing the belly. He could feel the warmth under his palmー the warmth of a new life that he and the person he cared for the most had created. Yamaguchi still struggled to grasp the reality that he and his Hitoka had made that.

The engineer could still remember clearly how he’d come home, a few months ago, and found his wife crying her heart out; he’d never felt so panicked in his whole life, ever. Still, when she’d waved the pregnancy test in front of his eyesー not that he could read it nor understand it, given how much Yachi was tremblingー he’d felt his hammering heart leap in his throat, and immediately grabbed his wife from the waist, lifting her up in the air and twirling around, kissing her on the neck, on her stomach, and crying, letting the tears flood freely down his freckled cheeks. They’d stayed like that for a whole hour, incoherent giggles and choked screams of joy filling the air, before the spouses had decided to move to a more comfortable place than the bathroom. And now, seven months and twenty-six days later, about a little more than eight months and a half after the conception, Yamaguchi still couldn’t believe it. Neither could Yachi, to be fair.

More than once, during the first months of that journey, she’d woken up overwhelmed by the nausea, panicked and fanned, grabbing at her husband’s shoulder and shaking him abruptly to wake him up because _“Something’s wrong. I don’t know what, but something_ ー _something’s definitely wrong, Dashi!”_ momentarily forgetting about all those pieces of advice and information she’d read while documenting herself on the symptoms.

Luckily enough, it had always been nausea and nothing more than that, and neither she nor the baby had ever been in real danger. It had been a smooth pregnancy so far, and Yachi, just like Yamaguchi, prayed to the gods to let it run like that until the very end.

“What are you thinking about?” Yachi called, smiling down on Yamaguchi, who blinked rapidly, snapping back into focus. “You looked lost in your thoughts.”

“I kinda was. Sorry.” he hummed, moving from laying on his side to his back. He eyed Yachi from his position, admiring her every inch, from her long neck to her chin, to her ears and pink cheeks, her nose and eyes and forehead; her face was rounder than usual, lineaments softer and less pointy. She looked positively astounding, Yamaguchi thought. Ever since he’d laid his chestnut eyes on her, when she’d first set foot into the gym, he knew that he was going to marry her, at least in his fantasies. Still, he hadn't been able to ask her out until three years after they’d graduated, while the two of them were waiting for the bus to go back home after a night out with Tsukishima, Hinata and Kageyama, soon before the setter and the short ace’d departure to go back to where they were staying abroad. And, to be completely fair, it had been Yachi to ask him out first, though she’d done it to help Yamaguchi, who was visibly struggling to get those words out.

They were only twenty-one at the time, but after two years of dating, they knew that they were destined to spend the rest of their lives together; that’s why they’d gotten married, and moved in together. They’d changed houses and companies to work for ever since, given how they wouldn’t have been able to afford the house they lived in now back in the days.

“I love you.” he breathed out suddenly, absolutely lovestruck, “I love you so much, Hitoka.”

The designer smiled, leaning down to plant a soft, delicate kiss on her husband’s forehead while still toying with his hair, “I love you too, Dashi.” She straightened back up, fanned even because of such an easy movement, “Now let me up, I have to make dinner.”

“No way!” Yamaguchi shrieked, still with his head on Yachi’s blooming chest, “No, _I’m_ making dinner. You stay here and relax.”

“You made it yesterday, and the day before yesterday, and the day before thatー for a whole month. Please, let me do something.” Yachi begged, exasperated, “Come on, I’ve been doing nothing but relaxing lately, I want to move a bit!”

“If you want, you can set the table, but there’s no way I’m letting you near the stove.” he insisted, “What if you feel sick? What if you trip over your feet because you can’t see them, and knock something over? What if that ‘something’ is boiling food? What if you hurt yourself like that? No, no. I won’t let anything of the sorts happen!”

“I’ve been making my own lunch, though.” Yachi reasoned, trying to knock some sense into her spiraling husband.

He shook his head, sitting up carefully to avoid headbutting Yachi, “That’s different. I won’t let you do anything dangerous when I’m here to stop you, To.” He cradled the blonde’s hands and squeezed them against his chest, looking at her fondly, unable to prevent worry from being conveyed in his gaze, “Please, please just let me do this. Iー I’ve been more anxious than usual lately, and whenever I see you doing something dangerous it gets even worse, and I want to be able to help in case of need. And I won’t be able to help if I’m rambling and fussing overー oh God, I’m doing it. I’m doing it right now, am I not?” he gasped, eyes wide, “Shit, I knew it. Sorry. I’m so sorry, love, I’m sorry.”

Yachi freed her hands and hugged him, holding his head down on her shoulder and speaking near his ear, “I understand your concern, baby, believe me. Just… Calm down, please. I promise I won’t do anything dangerous, but I’d like you to understand that cooking isn’t one of those things in the first place.” she explained, voice calm and sweet. Being familiar with anxiety, she didn’t question herself on the reasons behind Yamaguchi’s continuous fretting, nor did she doubt her husband’s ability to focus and jump into action when needed. “Since it’s only for two more weeks or so, I’ll let you have this and won’t cook, but please, don’t worry so much about this.”

“Alright, okay. Sorry. And… Thank you. Really, thank you so much.” Yamaguchi breathed out, trying to regain his breath and forcing out a grateful smile. He raised his gaze, meeting Yachi’s, and slowly brought his lips forward, eyes fluttering closed as they kissed. His hands went to her hips, though it was hard from their sitting position to be like that, and Yachi’s palms placed themselves on Yamaguchi’s strawberry cheeks, cupping his warm face. 

When Yachi pulled away with a choked screech and shot a worried gaze at her belly, Yamaguchi did the same, heart hammering in his chest. Neither of them expected to see a pointy bump on the left of the belly; it started moving toward the right, pretty rapidly too, before disappearing in the blink of an eye. Yachi and Yamaguchi stared at it for a while, terrified and mildly fascinated by the ordeal, unable to speak a word or take a breath. Slowly, they turned toward each other, wide-eyed and pale, unsure of what had just happened; had they seen this right? Had they just collectively hallucinated the whole thing?

Yamaguchi swallowed, thick, “Wh-what just happened..?”

“I think… I think she moved?” Yachi supplied, unsure, “I’d never seen that before, though.”

“Is this a... n-normal occurrence?”

“I wish I knew, love. I wish I knew…” 

“D-do you feel fine? Did it hurt?”

“N-no? It was just… weird. I felt her shift from one side to the other.” Yachi stuttered out, scratching the back of her head, “I think it was her… knee? Or elbow, maybe?”

The young engineer blinked slowly, still trying to comprehend what he’d just witnessed, before shaking his head and standing up from the bed, “I thought I was good at handling horror movies… This is so much worse.” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. He then patted his own cheeks, trying to snap out of it, and walked over to the other side of the bed, holding a hand out, “Let’s go eat, To.”

She nodded, taking his hand gently and letting him lead her to the kitchen. It wasn’t until after Yachi had set the tableー Yamaguchi still busy with the rice-cooker and potsー when she felt like something was definitely wrong, unable to pinpoint what. Still, the sensation that something was out of the ordinary remained, but she opted not to voice her worries yet, determined to understand what was happening first. Afterall, she didn’t want a rerun of what had happened the first time she'd woken Yamaguchi up in the dead of the night months ago, yelling and yanking at his shirt vehemently as she assured him that something was wrong. Nothing turned out to be ‘wrong’, at the end, but Yachi felt incredibly lucky that her husband had passed out when sitting on the floor and not while standing; after that, he’d learnt how to cope with Yachi's panic, and Yachi had learnt not to alarm him excessively, fearful that his heart would really stop at some point.

She let her gaze trail down, and only then Yachi understood what was happening. She swallowed, loud, before bringing her eyes up again, grip on the sides of the chair tight. “Dashi?” she called, sounding smaller than ever before.

He glanced over his shoulder, able to see her only from her belly and up, “Yeah?”

“I, huh, I think you should go get the bag.” she said, almost whispering, “My water… kind of broke?”

“Oh, alright.” Yamaguchi hummed, before turning his attention to the pots again. Only after six secondsー Yachi had counted them in her head, unconsciouslyー the man had dropped everything in his hands and whirled around, pupils pinpoint and mouth agape, knees shaking and hands flailing in the air. “Your what just what!?” he screeched, and only then allowed his eyes to rest on the small puddle on the floor, just at Yachi’s legs height, her pants dripping wet. He caught himself on the counter, hair standing on edge, “Hitoka! Your water broke! Hitoka!”

“I know… So, huh, the bag, pl-please?” she repeated, trying not to let her own panic seep through her voice, that still cracked nonetheless, “I think we should get gー aaagh, shit.” she hissed, a hand flying up to her stomach. Yamaguchi nodded, shaky, rapidly turning the stove off and then sprinting out of the kitchen, climbing three steps at one time; in less than a minute, he was downstairs again, bag propped on his shoulder, Yachi’s coat in his hands, clean skirt, underwear and a fresh towel in the other. Thank goodness they’d decided to prepare a bag with everything vital in it in case of need, the day before.

“I’ll help you change, To!” he said, gently helping his wife to get her wet pants and underwear and handing her the fresh ones and the towel, “How are you holding up? What hurts? Do you want me to call an ambulance instead? Do you feel dizzy? Do you need to lie down?” he asked, his hands moving as if he was trying to unscrew his own fingers out of their sockets. 

Yachi shook her head, eyes squeezed shut, a thin layer of sweaty pearls glistering her forehead, “Pl-please just take me to the hospital, Dashi.” she said, sounding calmer than her husband, somehow, “I can hang in there if w-we leave now. I’m okay for the ti-time being.”

The man nodded, helping her to stand, and as soon as he got her settled in the backseats, he sped down the road, blissfully empty. Thankfully, they didn’t live far from the hospital, and they were able to reach the facility in less than fifteen minutes without even breaking the speed-limits. Still, he held her hand despite the weird angle that his wrist had, whenever he didn’t need it to actually drive. At one point, it was Yachi to reassure Yamaguchi, and not the other way round.

Ten minutes after being admitted, Yachi was lying on a bed, hand still held in Yamaguchi’s delicate and sweaty grip as he furiously typed mails with his free hand, sending them to his mother-in-law, parents, and friends. His family and Yachi's were going to be there soon, they said, and their friends promised to visit as first thing in the morningー Hinata and Kageyama had booked a flight as soon as they’d received the mail, and Tsukishima had immediately bolted out of the Sendai City Museum and hopped on the first train available.

“They’ll all be here soon.” he said out loud, looking at his wife, who looked absolutely exhausted already, “I can tell them to wait, though, if you don’t feel well enough to meet anyone yet.”

Yachi smiled, sheepish, “Don’t, please. I want to see them! Of course I do. M’just a bit tired, but I won’t be able to rest properly until the baby comes out, I guess, so I might as well have some other familiar faces around.” she reassured, tightening her grip , “But I’ll be fine. We will.”

Yamaguchi smiled, eyes teary, and lowered his head on the bed, letting his head rest onto Yachi’s hand, “Yes, we will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my first time writing a m/f ship, woah! YamaYachi is so wholesome, I love them so much... I hope I did them justice, somehow. Fun fact, the elbow thing is something I did just a few weeks before being born, my parents just love telling that story to everyone... I'm sorry for them, it must've been creepy for a 26 and a 25 y.o. to witness a horror movie-like scene. Sorry ma', pa', didn't mean to scare you like that!  
> ー  
> Now, I want to apologise for the delay. I wanted to write and post this on November 4th, but my mental health declined drastically for a number of reasons so I haven't been able to do anything at all lately. Still, next update will be posted on schedule, hopefully before the 15th so that I can make it up to you readers for this delay. Again, I'm very sorry.  
> Thank you for bearing with me, everyone. I'm deeply grateful for your support, always.


	10. YakuLev

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaku: 28 years old.  
> Lev: 26 years old.  
> ー  
> ⚠️ none.

Today was their free day, and as such, Yaku and Lev were fully determined to do absolutely nothing, from dawn to dusk. That’s why, after eating breakfast around seven in the morningー both men unable to sleep in due to their biological clock being too used to their usual scheduleー they’d flopped back on the bed of their shared apartment in Tōkyō where they were going to stay for a while, leaving the one in Moscow for a bit. Luckily enough, both of their salaries counted enough digits for them to maintain two apartments, since Yaku lived more in Russia than in Japan due to being a pro-league player in the Russian Super League, and since Lev traveled continuously from one country to the other with his modeling agency and sister. He’d even learnt a bit of Russian with Yaku, making his grandparents extremely proud. 

The sound of the TV echoed in the background, though only Lev was paying attention to it, while Yaku laid with his eyes closed, not asleep, just blissfully relaxed. They were holding hands, and despite that position was slightly uncomfortable for the taller man, his grip was firm on his boyfriend’s callous hand. He let his thumb trail across the back of Yaku’s hand, feeling the warm skin under his touch, and the latter tightened the grip, a faint smile appearing on his face, eyes still closed. They’d only been together for a shy year and a half, but since they’d known each other for ten, and dated for two before making their relationship official, it felt like they’d gotten together a lot earlier than they did in reality. Jade eyes scanned the shorter man meticulously, knowing each end every feature and inch of his body perfectly, and yet never getting tired of it. Small cuts, calluses, blisters, bruises, moles, dimples; every thin, pale hair, almost translucent, a rare sight considering how often Yaku shaved. Everything about him, to Lev, was simply perfect, exactly as it should have been. And the feeling was mutual. Yaku wasn’t much of a clingy type, usually, but he’d been caught staring at Lev more often than not, biting his lower lip, melting at the sight of that flawless man. Logically, they both had flaws and argued about them too, though not seriously, but Yaku and Lev knew that they could get over those, because compared to the rest, they were absolutely irrelevant. 

“Lev!” called Yaku, suddenly. Finally, his eyes blinked open, and he turned his head slightly to face his boyfriend, sporting a sheepish smile.

“Yeah?” he replied.

“I'm bored. Let's do something together, please.”

“What do you mean by 'something', exactly? I mean, I'm down for it, whatever 'something' is.” Lev murmured, propping himself up with one elbow, one hand supporting his head.

Yaku shrugged, still facing the ceiling and hugging the pillow to his chest, “I don't know... I'm hungry.”

“Ah? You want to go out for lunch already? It's barely eleven.”

“Mh, no, it's not that. I really don't feel like going out today, I rather we stay at home.” Yaku reasoned, humming. After a brief moment of pondering, he gasped quietly, “We should cook something together!”

Lev cocked an ash-grey eyebrow, and Yaku scooted closer to him, huddling for warmth, “We could bake a cake or something. Or, oh, butter cookies! I’ve been craving them for a week.”

“Aren't you on a low-fats regime or something..?” the taller man laughed. Yaku clicked his tongue.

“Nonsense, I eat what I want.” he said, “Practise and my healthy diet are more than enough to keep me in shape, I don’t need to completely cut off what I like, and even if I had to, I still wouldn’t do it.”

His boyfriend shrugged, nodding, “Whatever you say, Susu. Butter cookies it is, then!”

Yaku clapped his hands in excitement, getting up and trotting toward the kitchen, Lev following close after sliding his slippers on and stretching his arms behind his headー they definitely needed to find a position that Lev too could be comfortable in, he reasoned while heading to the kitchen. The shorter man had already put his apron on, tossing Lev’s to him with a wide smile on his face, “Let’s get to work, Haiba-kun!” he grinned. The latter laughed, “As you wish, Yaku-senpai.”

The first few minutes of cooking went smoothly. That was until Lev had dropped the flour on the floor and counted, and Yaku was left staring at the mess, head shaking like the one of an old, grumpy man in front of youth having fun. “Ops.” Lev said simply, eyes not daring to rise and meet his boyfriend’s, “I ruined everything, didn’t I?”

Yaku sighed, crossing his arms, “Well, we still have enough flour to bake the cookies, but someone will have to clean this mess up.” he murmured, and Lev slowly turned around to go grab the broom. Yet, he had to stop after a strong hand grabbed his arm, gently, and forced him to turn back around. Yaku was grinning, gaze visibly malicious.

“...I don’t like that look. You’re plotting something. Something I won’t like.”

“Am I?” Yaku hummed, rhetorically. He tugged Lev closer to him, standing on his toes and signaling for Lev to bend his knees a bit. “What I’m _plotting_ is of your liking, I assure you.”

Before Lev had the time to ask, his boyfriend shoved a kitchen towel in his hands, and grinned. The taller man, knowing what this was all about, gave in without a word and kneeled on the floor, starting to clean it. Yaku’s sadistic vein knew no shame, and quite frankly, Lev absolutely adored it. The model kept cleaning the floor as Yaku stared down at him, before crouching down too, and taking the towel out of his hands barely a minute after handing it to Lev in the first place. The latter grinned, falling on his butt, and Yaku climbed on his lap, arms wrapped around his boyfriend’s neck. Warm breath blew on his face, before he let his eyelids flutter close and leant forward, Lev’s lips welcoming his greedily. Slowly, they lowered to the ground, entirely falling in the powdery mess, flour smearing on their clothes and faces as they kissed, tongue trailing the other’s lip, reciprocally, before finally sliding inside the mouth, welcomed by the warmth and moist familiarity of that gesture. Lev’s hands steadied themselves on Yaku’s hips, and the latter’s cradled the moon-colored hair in his fingers, touch gentle and careful. 

“I love you so much, Susu.” Lev panted between kisses. Yaku brought one of his hands down and grabbed at Lev’s, still on his hip, and squeezed it tightly. He grinned, smile sheepish and lovestruck, “So do I, Lev. A lot.” 

And, after a couple of minutes spent practically sucking each other’s face off, when Lev’s hand had slowly started to trail from the hip to the lower region, fingers shaky with excitement and agitation, and Yaku had already started to unbutton his pants, a high-pitched squeak erupted from the half-Russian’s stomach. With wide eyes, Yaku pulled apart, breathless and mildly concerned. “What the hell was that?”

“M-my stomach?” Lev bleached. “Oh, hell. I, huh, I really need to use the bathroom.” he muttered, placing a hand on his unhappy-sounding belly, “We can _continue_ later.” he offered, praying for a positive response. He got it in the blink of an eye.

“Glady.” Yaku nodded with a sly smirk, “I’ll clean this up in the meantime. We can cook after, you know…” he prompted. Lev only nodded, smirking. The two men got up, and the shorter one was already rolling up his sleeves and approaching the sink, “Just, don’t be long.”

“I won’t!” Lev grinned, before bowing down and placing a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s warm and flour-stained cheek, “Leave the floor to me, I’ll mop it later.” he said, before hurrying to the bathroom. Yaku smiled, and busied himself with the dishes, carefully washing each and every piece of cutlery, cups, plates and everything else that was soaking in the soapy water. As he washed them, a muffled humming escaped his throat, melody unknown but catchy nonetheless; it was probably one of those songs he’d heard in one of Lev’s perfume commercials, the shorter man reasoned. 

He finished up pretty soon, and started cleaning the counter and sink as well, given how he had nothing better to do at the moment. There was still no trace of Lev, but it had only been fifteen minutes at most, and if there was one peculiar thing that the half-Russian was famous for, was his inability to relieve his biological needs quickly; he’d always taken too long whenever it came to going to the bathroom, ever since Yaku could remember. Another ten minutes later, and the pro-player was done with cleaning the rest of the kitchen from the flour, shattered eggshells and yolk that stained the surfaces. Now, all he needed to do was to dry them, and for that he needed... “Ow, come on, stop putting it up there...” Yaku groaned under his breath, fists clenched at his sides. 

Lev had always had the bad habit of placing the kitchen roll on the cabinet above the sink, way out of Yaku’s reach. Normally, the shorter man would just ask his boyfriend to get it after scolding him, but right now he was alone, and knew that Lev was not going to be available for a while. So, after taking a deep breath, he put one knee on the sink’s edge, and pushed his other knee up too, slowly, gingerly, wanting to avoid injuring himself for something so stupid at all costs. He brought his tawny brown eyes up, and noticed that despite his efforts, he was still too far from the kitchen roll. “Well, fuck me.”

Yaku placed his palms flat on the cabinet, trying to assess his position as he stood upright, stretching his muscular legs out at minimum speed, sincerely fearing for his life. Once he was upright, he placed a cheek on the cold surface of the shutter in order to be as stable as he could, and brought one arm up, rotating his wrist to avoid moving his elbow, desperately hoping to find the roll without having to raise his eyes; he knew that would have meant losing his balance and falling down, and a trip to the hospital definitely wasn’t what the pro-player was planning for that night. 

And finally, his fingers made contact with the soft, blistered paper, a sigh escaping his lips as Yaku grabbed the kitchen roll tight. Now, it was time for the hardest part: getting down from there without falling on the floor in a heap and dying. He sighed, exasperated. “Lev, oi, come here, please! Lev? Lev!” Yaku called, hoping for his boyfriend to come and get him. But the taller man was still busy in the bathroom, and had turned the music on, too. “Curse his super long dumps. Seriously, how much shit does he have in that body!? Fuck.” he commented, boiling with rage, mainly caused by the situation he’d stuck himself in. Yaku had to solve this by himself, he realised with a tad of shame and reluctance bubbling in the back of his throat.

Yaku slowly rotated his torso, just barely, just enough to see what he could toss the kitchen roll onto; he didn’t want it to fall on the floor. Despite being clean, they still walked on it with their bare feet or sweaty socks, and letting the paper they were going to put near their mouths later touch that surface seemed highly unhygienic, obviously. So, the pro-player summoned his volleyball abilities and aim, and threw the roll on the table; perfect landing. Pride swelled up in his chest, momentarily making him forget that he was still stuck standing on the sink’s edge, the risk of slipping and cracking his skull higher than ever.

He simply needed to slide down, slowly, and crouch down, before putting one knee down, and then the other, to assume the very first position he’d had to climb up, before. _Piece of cake._ “Okay, Morisuke, you got this.” he told himself, taking a deep, steadying breath. He carefully bent his knees, palms still flat on the shutters of the cabinets above the sink, and started to descend, almost imperceptibly. He was almost halfway down, now.

But what Yaku didn’t expect was for his socked foot to skid, and for his heel to get caught in the sink. With a strangled yelp, he fell down like a sack of wet cement, arms unable to catch him or prevent him from headbutting the cold floor, one foot still in the sink, the other bent awkwardly under his own body. Everything faded in and out for a few moments, before he blinked, disoriented, briefly wondering why the kitchen was suddenly upside down. _Oh,_ he remembered now. Yaku pushed himself up with a low groan, moaning as pain shot up from his head; he was going to _kill_ Lev for putting the kitchen roll up there. Speaking of Lev, the half-Russian came into view, eyes glued to his phone as he laughed; then, jade eyes roseー or better, sankー to meet a seemingly-hurt Yaku as he rubbed the back of his head, eyes squeezed shut. The model gasped, shoving the phone in his pocket, and jogged toward his boyfriend, crouching down; only then Yaku acknowledged his presence, a hand still grabbing at the back of his head, as he struggled to suppress a pained wince.

Worry churned at Lev’s stomach, hands hovering with uncertainty. “Morisuke, holy fuck, are you hurt? How? W-what happened? Does your head hurt? How many fingers am I holding up? Do you know where we are? Count from twenty to zero for me. Are you going to throw up? Should I call an ambulance? Hang on, I’llー”

“Lev, I’m fine, geez. Calm down, lion.” Yaku muttered, rolling his eyes and placing a hand on his boyfriend’s strong shoulder to steady him, “It’s not even going to bruise, don’t worry. I’m alright.” 

Lev relaxed visibly, the creases on his forehead disappearing, but he surely didn’t expect for the pro-player to bring a shaky hand up and flick him on the forehead, fingers strong after years of volleyball (and flicking) training. “You idiot, why did you have to put the kitchen roll up there!?” he growled, “When I called you earlier you didn’t even hear me! You and your stupidly eternal shits!”

“I’m... sorry?” Lev said, cocking an eyebrow, bemused, “It wasn’t that way up high, thoughー”

“Not all of us are two-meters tall!” Yaku seethed, squinting and planting his index finger into his boyfriend’s chest, “Say it, you want me to die.”

Lev chuckled, “First of all, I’m not two-meters tall, and second, I would never want you to die. Your little ghost would haunt the shit out of me, and that sounds scary.”

Yaku clicked his tongue; he didn’t notice how he was still rubbing the back of his head, not until Lev pulled his hand away and glanced at the nape, sighing when he saw how there didn’t seem to be any blood oozing out of it. Still, he crawled toward the freezer, and got a packet of frozen peas out of it; Lev grabbed a kitchen towel and wrapped it around the packet, before handing it to Yaku and making it press against the back of his head. “I’m sorry you fell.” he said, sincerely mortified, “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not going to die suddenly because of this, are you?”

“No, it’s all good, really.” Yaku breathed out, smiling, “But I’m still mad at you. Very, _very_ mad.”

The former self-declared ace sighed in relief, and assumed a more comfortable position on the floor. “What can I do to make it up to you? Do you accept cuddles as an apology?” 

Yaku scratched at his chin, cocking an eyebrow, “Mh, yes. That, plus… You gotta do the dishes for the whole week. No, make it two!” he said; they were used to doing the dishes one day each, so the agreement would have meant doubling Lev’s turns. The model sighed, defeat lingering in his shiny gaze, but nodded reluctantly.

“Then it’s settled.” Yaku grinned, clapping his hands briefly, before picking up the packet of frozen peas again, “Now take me to bed and cuddle me like there’s no tomorrow.”

Lev smiled, nodding vehemently as he scooped his boyfriend up in his long arms, eyeing him fondly. “As you wish, Susu.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I always told you your dumps take too long!" is a legendary line that I'll never forget *chef's kiss* Yaku said that in s4 ova, if I recall correctly, and I seriously can't stop thinking about it hahah. What a legend! By the way, I hc 28 year-old Yaku as 169cm tall (thanks @Crippleth for telling me that 169cm is the official timeskip height) and 26 year-old Lev as 196cm tall. In the series, though, Lev's 194.3cm tall, and Yaku's 166cm tall.  
> ー  
> At first my plan was to make them play with flour and then accidentally fall down and make out... I wasn't planning on this to get so h0rny... oops. Sorry, I hope it didn't disturb anyone (though it's nothing graphic and "fair amount of making out here and there" is in the tags.)  
> ー  
> Nobody commented anything on the YamaYachi chapter (as of Nov 16) so I'll have to assume that everyone here is heterophobic 😤 in 2020!? On my ao3!? I won't allow this! ... Jokes aside, is chapter 9 that bad? Shall I modify it a bit? I'm asking you this sincerely, because I wrote it in a rush and when I was emotionally compromised (read: more than usual), but I have no objective way to tell if it's bad or not. Please, help a poor clueless gay whose first m/f work flopped pitifully.


	11. TanaKiyo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shimizu: 21 years old.  
> Tanaka: 20 years old.  
> ー  
> ⚠️ none.

The warmth inside the ramenya felt soothing on everyone’s skin, as if it could melt the invisible ice layer that had formed on their bodies while they were chatting outside the little restaurant, waiting for everyone before going in to celebrate New Year’s Eve a bit early, as they knew that it was hard to meet for that occasion now that they were all located in different parts of the country and had a packed schedule. On that cold November evening, everyone from Karasuno who had taken part in the Nationals was sitting around the tables, feet dangling from the high stoolsー except for the taller people’s. Takeda-sensei and Coach Ukai were there too, glancing at their students and former students proudly; they’d all come a long way.

They lively chatted, Sugawara and Takeda giggling as they downed more alcohol than anyone else, the twenty-two year-old’s liver incredibly strong for someone who’d only started to drink two years prior. Daichi and Ukai were trying their best to keep everyone from getting wasted, though the teacher and the aspiring one were most certainly far too gone, at that point. Still, everyone silently noticed how one person was not being as cheery as usual, though nobody dared to ask him why. Not until a drunk silver-haired boy, who was sitting right next to him, let his head flop on his friend’s shoulder, failing to hide the concern despite the sheepish grin on his reddened face.

“Tanaaaka, what’s up, my man?” Sugawara called, “You good? You look… saaad.” he said, drawing everyone’s attention to the scene.

Tanaka blinked at him, amused by his senpai’s state, and nodded with a smile, “Ah? Suga, I’m fine, don’t worry. You could use some water, though.” he laughed. Laughter erupted in the restaurant, and everyone’s attention quickly returned to what they were talking about. Still, Sugawara didn’t let up, and leaned closer to his kōhai’s ear. “Seriously, what’s wrong? Are you really okay?” he asked, sounding far more sober and concerned than a few seconds ago. Tanaka scratched his neck, picking up the glass and downing down the beer that was left; he’d only had one stein, and yet he felt like he was floating up high in the sky, among the clouds, but instead of being in a clear sky, Tanaka felt like he’d been caught in the middle of a violent thunderstorm. His gaze rapidly shifted to the far end of the table, a glimpse of black, long hair enough to make him avert his eyes rapidly. 

“I just need to get some fresh air. I… I think I ate too much.” he chuckled, aware of how unconvincing he’d been. “I’ll be back soon. Oh, and stop drinking!” he yelled, pointing his finger at Sugawara as he got up from the stool and grabbed his jacket. Sugawara stuck his tongue out in a childish manner, but as soon as Tanaka disappeared from his sight, he immediately stood up and wobbled over to where Daichi and Asahi were sitting, next to each other; he swung his arms around their shoulders, head poking between the other two, and inhaled sharply. “We have an emergency!” he said. 

Daichi cocked an eyebrow, “Yeah, you’re boozer.” he nodded, earning a guttural chuckle from Asahi, who nodded along. Sugawara didn’t give in, and only pulled them closer, still standing behind them on shaky legs, “Tanaka’s lovestruck and in pain. We need to help him.”

“So you noticed that too, huh?” Asahi breathed out, putting his chopsticks down, “Do you think it’s still Kiyoko?”

“He glanced at her briefly earlier.” Daichi supplied, and Sugawara nodded.

The former setter hummed, “Maybe he found someone else, and he doesn’t know how to tell our Kiyoko that he’s moved on.”

“Why would he need to do that? I don’t think she’d be bothered by it, given that they were never together, right?”

“I don’t know, Daichi, but he’s always been like that for Kiyoko.” Asahi intervened, “Maybe Suga’s right, though we could only confirm this by asking Tanaka himself about it.”

Daichi put his hands up, “I’m not doin’ that. These things are beyond my comprehension.”

“Me neither.” Asahi mumbled, “I mean, it would be too awkward, and I don’t want to creep Tanaka out. I’d get nervous and mess everything up, probably, so I’ll pass.”

Sugawara gasped a bit too dramatically. “Cowards!” he growled.

“So you’ll do it?” the former ace asked.

“Of course not!” Sugawara shook his head, leaning back and letting go of his friends, “But I’ll ask Kiyoko to go get him, and eventually he’ll talk.... I think. I don’t know, I’m studying Primary Education Science, I don’t know how to handle adults, I’m afraid.” he sighed. The other two laughed.

That said, the man walked away and headed toward Shimizu, who was talking to Yachi, Ukai, Nishinoya and Ennoshita. He stood a few feet away, before the older former manager noticed him, and without needing to hear anything, she bowed her head slightly and stood, walking up to Sugawara. She’d recognize that worried expression anywhere. “Sugawara, are you alright?” she asked.

The man shrugged, “I don’t know. I mean, yeah, I’m fine, but…” he nodded to the empty seat. “Think you could go talk to him? I’m sorry, I know this is inappropriate and unfair to ask, but I believe that he needs to talk to you about something, and he never will unless pushed to. If you don’t feel like it, I’ll go. I just thought that it was better to tell you first.”

Shimizu nodded, “I’ve been meaning to talk to him as well, actually. So, thank you for telling me.” she smiled, and after a little final glance at the empty stool, she grabbed her coat and walked out of the ramenya. Glancing around, she spotted Tanaka, standing a few meters away from the entrance with his fists curled at his sides, distant gaze glancing at the dark, starry sky. He looked… anxious. And that was unusual, to say the least. She walked closer and closer to him, without saying a word. And yet, he noticed her almost immediately, as he flinched slightly at the newly acquainted presence.

“Kiyoko-san, h-hello!” Tanaka stuttered, cheeks and ears tinged in red as he cleared his throat, “I find you well. You look radiant and, huh, I find you well. Oh, I already said it! Sorry.” he chuckled nervously, hands behind his back as he fiddled with them restlessly, gaze shying away, “The moon’s beautiful, huh? Ah, wait, that’sー _totally_ clichéd, isn’t it? I’ll just… let you enjoy the silence.” he mumbled, cursing himself. 

Shimizu glanced at him, expression stoic as ever, though a light, imperceptible smile could be noticed only from a short distance; Tanaka, standing two meters away, didn’t notice it, and didn’t even dare looking at the girl next to him, too intimidated and flustered by her graceful, almost ethereal presence. After she’d graduated, the former wing spiker had tried to move on, and he found it inappropriate to bother her again, now that they didn’t meet daily anymore, so he’d limited himself to simply sending her mails on certain special occasions. She’d always replied promptly, kind and tranquil, and that had only made Tanaka’s heart throb more and more for the girl.

Shimizu exhaled softly, her smile broadening in the slightest, “I find you well too, Tanaka.” she hummed, trying to catch his eyes, which remained glued to Tanaka’s shoes. And she knew that, despite the looks, he’d always been very shy when it came to these things. The continuous flirting had only been a façade, and she’d noticed it when Amanai had almost confessed her love for the boy, back in his second year at Karasuno. “It’s pretty cold here. You should go back inside.” she said.

“No, thanks. I mean, yes, it’s cold, but I’d like to stay here a bit more. Unless… Oh. Am I bothering you?” he gasped, finally facing her. Big mistake. Shimizu’s hair was slightly curly for the occasion, shorter than the last time he’d seen her, about a year prior after New Year’s Eve, jet-black and shiny under the moonlight and the pale, yellow light of the lampposts outside the ramenya. Cobalt eyes with long lashes blinked at him slowly, hidden behind elegant, thin frames; Shimizu’s lips quivered in a half-smile, teeth showing behind the lips, the mole next to her mouth round and small, just like Tanaka remembered itー he’d always found it incredibly cute, but he’d never told her. Maybe he should have. Maybe she would’ve accepted him, back then, and they could’ve ended up together. But it was too late now, he realised. It was probably not meant to be, after all.

Tanaka blinked once, and twice, and then again, slow and hypnothized, face heating up suddenly, captured by the sheer beauty in front of him; something in his chest shifted, and he felt like all the air had been forcefully knocked out of him, heart hammering in his chest so hard that for a split second he was sure that the organ was just going to burst out of his heaving chest. He thanked the gods for the fact that he was wearing multiple layers of clothing, which were probably going to help mask the droplets of sweat and his chest that was rising and falling too rapidly for someone who was standing entirely still. 

Shimizu took a couple of steps toward him, hands cradled to her chest, a mildly concerned expression lingering on her face as she noticed the seemingly-blank stare. She stopped a arm-legnth away from him, hesitant. “Are you alright, Tanaka? Did the cold get to you?”

He blinked, astonished. This only worked to worry Shimizu more, as she brought her hands forward and gently grabbed the boy’s bare ones. Even through the cloth of her black gloves she could feel how icy Tanaka’s poor fingers were, and she started to rub them with her own, trying to warm them up. “You should have worn some gloves. Frostbite is very dangerous.” she explained, voice placid.

Tanaka chuckled, despite himself, though it only lasted for a second as he got sucked back into the endless spiral of panic he’d been dragged in. “I'm sorry.” he mumbled. 

She shook her head, smiling gently at him. The truth is that she did not know what she was doing either, her mind on autopilot ever since she’d stepped out with Tanaka on Sugawara’s wise advice. Shimizu knew that she had to say something, now, but the words were simply not coming; instead, they were trapped in the back of her throat, the dull sounds in her head drowned out by her own heartbeat, faster than usual. And just then, as if on cue, Tanaka looked at her, his grey stare intense and… _pained?_ “Tanaka, Iー”

“No, please, let me speak first. I don’t want you to feel like you’re forced to say anything, so I’d rather speak my mind now, to spare you the suffering.” Tanaka inhaled, shaky, “I mean, I’m not seventeen anymore, we’re both adults, right? I… I want to apologise. I was annoying and far too inappropriate sometimes, and I’ve never said sorry for that, but I will do it now.” he blurted out.

Shimizu held her breath, Tanaka’s hands still in hers. After a brief pause, the boy continued, lowering his gaze, “Please, forgive me for all the times I made you uncomfortable, and for not being a better friend. I wish I could go back in time and slap some sense into that bald head of mine, but I can’t, so apologising is the only thing I can do now, besides not bothering you any longer.” he explained, eyes glued to the slippery sidewalk, “I still have feelings for you, there’s no denying it. I’ve had them since my first year, since the first time I saw you, and saying that I thought that it was just going to be a phase would be a lie, because I’ve always thought that you were the right one for me. Hell, I still do! But…” Tanaka hesitated.

He brought his eyes up, meeting Shimizu’s focused gaze, “But, maybe I am not the right one for you. And it’s fine, I don’t expect you to reciprocate my love, and I don’t want you to pity me. I don’t… know why I said that. I mean, I know you wouldn’t _pity_ me, or anyone. I just wish you the best, because seeing you happy would be enough for me, no matter who you’re happy with.” Tanaka smiled, gaze wateryー he blamed the tears on the harsh, cold windー and wriggled his hands out of her hold, gently, before grabbing hers and squeezing them delicately and bowing forward. “If you’ll have me as a friend, I promise I will be there for you, forever. Being friends with you is the highest of honours for me, and as long as you’re okay, I am too. If it’sー if it’s not meant to be, then I won’t force it to happen.”

Shimizu didn’t speak a word. She’d inadvertently started to chew on her lower lip, and shivers that were not related to the cold had started to rock through her body. And then, when she was about to speak, a sob tore from Tanaka’s mouth, as he snatched his arm up to cover his eyes, and cried into it. The girl got closer to him, but when she tried to peek from under his arm, she noticed that the boy was smiling. 

“Tanaka…” she called, heart leaping in her throat.

“I’m sorry, God, I’m sorry, I’m such a sap.” he laughed, “But I’m happy I got it off my chest, I wanted to do that ages ago. Damn it, give me a minute, I justー” he chuckled again, face still hidden as the tears kept flowing, “I’m so happy I told you this.”

Shimizu fiddled with her purse, extracting a thin plastic wrap, handing it over to the sobbing boy, “Here.” she called, voice soft and low, “Don’t cry, it’s okay. I forgive you, TanaーRyūnosuke-kun. I forgive you, and I appreciate what you’ve said. Please, breathe.” she explained, truthful, hoping to calm him down. She obtained the opposite result, as Tanaka sobbed louder, bowing forward slightly. A gloved hand went to rub up and down the boy’s arched back, soothing movement attempting to tranquilize him.

He sniffled, voice sounding more like a high-pitched whimper than anything. “Th-thank you so m-much, Ki-Kiyoko-san! I justー I didn’tー” he cried, “I’m so happy right now. I’m s-so happy. G-gosh, how much alcohol was there in that beer? I’m b-bawling my eyes out.” he hiccupped, shocked and overwhelmed. She smiled, a sensation of unfamiliar warmth spreading across her chest. She’d always loved Tanaka’s smile and sincerity; she’d never seen him breaking down like this, not even after Karasuno had lost the match against Aoba Jōsai or when he’d collided with Daichi, and since Tanaka had always been the one to pick the others up, this new side of him was a pleasant surprise for Shimizu. Though, to be honest, she’d never doubted the boy’s sensitivity: Tanaka had always been a good senpai for his kōhai, caring and attentive, determined to help them reach their highest point, always willing to help them through any difficulty that wasn’t study-related with all possible means. That was Ennoshita’s job, after all.

Gathering the necessary courage, she inhaled sharply, and exhaled slowly before speaking. “I would like to say something too, now.” the former manager started, drawing Tanaka’s attention as he pulled the arm down and blinked the tears away. She fixed her glasses on her nose, blushing slightly without losing her composure in the slightest. “Can I call you Ryū-kun?”

“Drop the ‘kun’, if you want. I don’t mind, really!” he blurted out, eyes wide, hands waving frantically, “You’re the senpai so you can call me in whatever way you prefer. Everything’s fine for me.”

She nodded, “Ryū it is, then. So, Ryū, I… Well, I don’t really know how to say this, but I will try to be as clear as I can.” she started, voice calm, “I must admit that, when I met you, I did not feel like marrying you, like you did. Though, I’ve always found you incredibly interesting: there’s a side to you that I can’t quite describe, I’m afraid, but that I wanted to know better. However, back in high school, I did not feel like having any relationship, but I have always considered you as a friend of mine, a dear one. And that was enough for me.” she spoke, her tone serious and professional, compared to Tanaka’s expressions that changed from second to second, going from surprise, to fear, to shame, to happinessー putting at use the vast spectrum of emotions that Tanaka himself didn’t know he had, either.

“Surely your attentions did not go unnoticed, and while it was overwhelming sometimes, it never bothered me much, for the fact that I knew that with you, I was safe. You have always been protective, and I appreciated it. You were not the only one flirting with me, as I’m sure you know, but you were the only person interested in me whom I felt safe and comfortable with, because I knew that you were respectful of my boundaries, and that you would have been there for me. Same goes for Nishinoya and for that one player from Nekoma. Yamamoto-san, I believe? Though, Nishinoya and Yamamoto-san were a bit more… hormone-driven.” she explained with a light chuckle, while Tanaka held his breath. 

He gulped, hands rising hesitantly with the intention of holding Shimizu’s, before falling back to his sides, “Kiyoko-san… Do you mean it?”

Shimizu nodded, “I never lie.”

“N-no, I was not implying that, sorry!” he yelled, frantic. The girl laughed, exhaling and showing no sign of resentiment whatsoever.

“What I am saying is that, if you want, Ryū, I would love to start seeing you more often. I cannot guarantee you that we will last forever, but I am fully willing to give itー to give _us_ a chance. You’re a good person, and I’ve always admired you, so it would be a pleasure for me to get to know you better and become closer to you.” she said, flashing the brightest, loveliest smile that Tanaka had ever seen in his entire existence. He felt faint.

The knot in his throat made it hard for him to voice his thoughts, and he also realised that he couldn’t put a coherent thought together in the first place. “Y-you want to be friends with me? Best friends?” he swallowed, dumbfound.

Shimizu raised a thin eyebrow, gently tilting her head to the side, “I meant it as in… dating?” she said, sounding hesitant, “As I told you already, I’ve been considering you as a close friend since high school, Ryū. And even if it won’t work between us, I doubt that I would stop thinking of you as someone dear to me. Unless you hurt me, of course. But, in that case, you’d never see the light again.” she hummed in a joking tone, though Tanaka and herself knew well that she was being absolutely serious.

Tanaka would’ve laughedー Shimizu thought he would haveー but instead he took a couple of unsteady steps back, eyes wider than ever, pupils pinpoint. The girl’s eyebrows pulled together in a worried glance, afraid that maybe she’d misread the situation and went too far. 

“You’re drunk.” Tanaka breathed out, “Oh gosh, the alcohol must have messed you up. Iー Kiyoko-san, I appreciate what you said, but… Whatever you drank must be speaking for you now. I don’t want you to regret your choices once you sober up.” he mumbled, concerned, “It’s okay, I’m not mad orー or anything! Just, I don’t want you to feel forced to date me only because you’ve said something in a time like thー”

“I only had ocha.” she cut in, voice soothing, “I’m sober, and I’m not mocking you. I sincerely would like to go on a date with you, Ryū.” she smiled, stepping close to him and gently taking his trembling hands in hers. Tanaka made a noise halfway through a distressed moan and a joyful squeak, the sound not entirely pleasant to hear, but a truthful depiction of how he felt in that moment. “R-really?” he asked, baffled. She nodded. “Are y-you sure?” he asked. Another nod.

“We should go back inside now.” she prompted, “Your hands are really cold, and you’re shivering.”

“Th-that’s not the weather’s fault. I’m so excited and I don’t know if I’m just drunk after one single stein of beer, or if I’m hallucinating, or if I’m about to be sickー I genuinely don’t know.” he laughed, failing to mask his inner turmoil, “I’ll stay here for a few more minutes, to cool down a bit. You go in, though, I wouldn’t want you to get sick, Kiyoko-san.” He returned his gaze to the moon, taking a few deep breaths, letting the icy air fill his lungs and burn his throat. And then, a pair of warm arms wrapped around one of his, holding him tight; Tanaka glanced at his side, finding Shimizu as she rested her head on his shoulder and hugged his arm close to her chest. She didn’t look at him, but he was sure that she knew how red his whole face had become.

“You can call me Kiyoko. The ‘san’ isn’t needed, Ryū.” she explained, “And I’ll stay here with you, just for a little bit. You’ll stay warm like this, and I don’t mind keeping you company.”

Tanaka blinked, disoriented and dizzy, but brought his gaze up again to stare at the round moon; slowly, gingerly, he tentatively let his head lean to the side and onto Shimizu’s, careful not to hurt her. When she didn’t pull away nor flinch, he let his head rest in a more comfortable position. And, just like that, he knew that maybe, just maybe it _was_ meant to be, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ramenya: place where you eat ramen.  
> ocha: Japanese green tea (non-alcoholic).  
> ー  
> Sorry for publishing this so late, a bunch of stuff happened in uni, and I also almost ended up at the hospital on Wednesday because my body craves death, apparently (big mood). Also, I wanted to post this two hours ago, but I got distracted.  
> ー  
> Can you believe that it’s been almost three months since I started writing for this fandom..? Wow. Time flies! I will add more pairings in February, after my exams. Still, I will post a few Haikyuu works in the meantime; I have plenty of ideas for this fandom, and for many others, too! Here's the link to [my tumblr blog](https://theforgottendaydreamer.tumblr.com/post/620448087422451712/the-following-people-are-not-allowed-on-my), in case you wanted to come and say hi (I take Haikyuu sickfics headcanons requests). As usual, please drop kudos and comments if you enjoyed my work, share it with your Haikyuu-loving friends, and check out my other stuff too if you have time. See you soon, and thanks for your heartwarming support~


	12. EnnoTana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ennoshita: 18 years old.  
> Tanaka: 18 years old.  
> ー  
> ⚠️none.

Springs in Miyagi were blissfully mild. Usually, that is. But that year, a heatwave had hit the whole region of Honshu, forcing everyone to turn air conditioners on way before they’d planned. People already walked in the streets wearing T-shirts, capri pants, skirts, linen shirts and everything of the sorts, fanning themselves with little _uchiwa_ as they strolled down the road biting on a popsicle to cool down a bit. 

And for the volleyball team of Karasuno High, the first week of March was being brutal. Keeping the doors of the gym opened seemed to do very little to make the humid, hot air more breathable, and Ennoshita had also been forced to cancel training outside after half of the playersー and Yachi, tooー had almost collapsed under the scorching sun. It wasn’t ideal, really, to end his career as the team’s Captain like that, but it couldn’t be helped, so Ennoshita had set his mind to make the best out of the remaining two weeksー eleven days, to be exactー at Karasuno. 

“Chikara, oi, be careful! Stop spacing out like that!” called Tanaka suddenly when a ball came flying towards him, and Ennoshita failed to suppress a little yelp that came from his throat as he grabbed the blue and yellow ball. The buzz-head boy approached him, cocking an eyebrow.

“You okay, Cap?” he asked, voice lined with concern, “You’ve had your head in the clouds since training started. What’s up with that?"

Ennoshita smiled, shaking his head lightly, “Nothing, I was just thinking about something. I’m fine, don’t worry.” he said, and his boyfriend did nothing to conceal the skepticism painted across his face as he crossed his arms and scoffed.

“You’re a bad liar, you know, Chika?” he grinned with a whisper, winking.

“Don’t call me that at school, moron.” Ennoshita growled, low, a faint blush making his face heat up slightly, “Save that for later.” he added. Tanaka snorted loudly and laughed, patting the other boy in between his shoulder blades a few times. 

“Aight,” he said after recollecting himself, “get your head outta that fine booty, then, ‘cause it’s time for our three on three! And you _bet_ I’m kicking your ass.”

Ennoshita nodded, “You always do.” he laughed. “You’re right, though, it’s late, we should start. Everyone, line up! It’s time for a match,” he started. Everyone gathered around the captain as he began to instruct his teammates on how the match was going to work, on who needed to tag who, and on what everyone needed to focus on the most.

He didn’t talk for long, but to Tanaka, who couldn’t get his eyes off of his boyfriend’s face, time seemed altered.

They hadn’t been together for long; Tanaka had built up the courage to ask Ennoshita out only at the end of their second year, less than a month after the bitter defeat they’d suffered at the Nationals. And Ennoshita couldn’t be happier, but at the same time Tanaka had sensed some discomfort. And, being who he was, he’d asked him about it.

_“No, no, of course I’m happy about this! I’m ecstatic, Ryū, I swear I am.” Ennoshita said, waving his hands in the air, “I’d really like to go on a date with you, because I like you too. I- I mean, I’ve liked you for a whole year, so of course I’m happy now.”_

_“Are you sure? You don't really look that happy about it. A-and it's fine! You’re not- you’re not forced to say ‘yes’, if you don’t feel like it.” Tanaka explained, calm and absolutely intentioned not to make Ennoshita’s evident panic worse, “I just wanted to get that off my chest, but it doesn’t mean that you mustー”_

_Tanaka was cut off as Ennoshita quickly approached him and wrapped his arms around the other boy, squeezing him into a tight, warm hug. The buzz-head boy froze, but slowly brought his hands up to place them onto Ennoshita’s back. He was shaking slightly under Tanaka’s touch, breath huffed. And for a moment, he feared that the soon-to-be captain would’ve burst into tears. He didn’t want to see him cry, not because of him._

_“Chikara..?” he called, voice soft, “What is, huh, what’s wrong?”_

_Ennoshita pulled away, exhaling slowly, shakily. He brought his head up again to look into Tanaka’s grey eyes. “I’m not… I’m not out to anyone yet. I don’t know how you found out about this, but I’m notー I haven’t told anyone. It’s all too new to me, a-and it’s scary, so I’m not ready to let anyone know that I’m bi.” he explained, eyes watery, “So if we got together, I would only slow you down. It’s not fair to you, Ryū, that’s why Iー”_ _  
_

_“Wait, is it just it? Like, this is the only reason why you wouldn’t want to get with me? Because you would ‘slow me down’? You mean there is no other reason? At all?” Tanaka deadpanned, looking… happy, for a reason that Ennoshita didn’t understand yet. He nodded, fearful._

_And now, Tanaka’s eyes were the ones to be leaking. He pulled Ennoshita back into a hug again, albeit briefly, as he pulled away a few instants later. He smiled, and it was such a heartwarming smile that the brunette felt like all of his worries had dissipated for a moment._

_“Chikara.” he called, voice firm despite he looked close to tears. “You wouldn't ‘slow me down’, wh-what the hell does that even mean? I thought you hated me or something for confessing to you, or that you simply weren’t into me, but… Man, you think I’dー I don’t knowー force you to tell everyone?” Tanaka said, gripping at the boy’s shoulders._

_“_ _Man, I don’t give a damn about letting anyone know any of my business. It’s you that I care about. I want you to be part of my life in some way, and I don’t care if you don’t feel like holding hands or whatever in public, or in private. If you want me, I won’t say no just because you’re closeted, and I won’t rush you either.”_

_He took a moment to inhale deep, and Ennoshita didn’t dare speak. “I like you, Chikara. I want to see you happy, no matter what it takes.” he said, and as soon as he finished he stopped to take a deep breath to restore the oxygen levels in his lungs. He glanced at Ennoshita._

_The_ (at the time) _number six blinked rapidly, before what resembled a waterfall started to flow down his chestnut-brown eyes, marking his red cheeks. He attempted to dry his face with the back of his right hand, shoulders shaking as he sobbed. “Ryū, y-you’reー you r-really mean th-that?”_

Someone’s yell dragged Tanaka back to reality. _In the middle of the best part of the flashback? Really?_ Tanaka thought, with a bit of annoyance. All he wanted to do was to finish remembering that memory, now. And yes, maybe doing it in the middle of a match wasn’t ideal, nor safe, butー

“...aka-san, watch out!” he heard a scream, and that really sounded like it was meant forー the dull _thonk_ of a ball hitting Tanaka straight in the face resonated in the gym, just an instant before the thud that his body produced as he fell to the ground in a heap. The screeching of sneakers running on the wooden boards of the gym. He sat up before anyone could get to him, rubbing his forehead as he groaned in pain. _God bless my thick skull,_ he thought. 

“Tanaka-senpai, I’m sorry, I'm _so_ sorry!”

“You can’t hit a senpai in the head, dumbass!”

“Wha- it’s not like I did it on purpose, stupid!”

“You’re about to begin your final year in highschool and yet you still act like toddlers. Embarrassing.”

“Shut up, you…”

The voices of the second-years arguing faded into distance, along with Kinoshita, Narita, Yachi, and the first-years’, as Ennoshita crouched in front of his boyfriend.

“Are you alright? That was a pretty nasty headshot. Maybe I should get you some ice.” he asked, and gently began to tilt Tanaka’s head to check for injuries. He seemed to have none, luckily.

“Nah, I’m fine, it just caught me off guard.” Tanaka mumbled, failing to mask his embarrassment, “I was thinking about when we got together and I got distracted.” he whispered. Ennoshita clicked his tongue, but looked visibly more relaxed than earlier. 

“And _I_ am the one with the head in the clouds, huh? Come on, let’s get you up.” Ennoshita scoffed, no real annoyance in his tone, and got to his feet before he extended his arm and dragged his boyfriend up on his feet. “Do you feel like you can play, or do you want me to sub you out for this one?”

“Hell no, I wanna play! I promise I’ll focus more.” Tanaka grinned, and slapped his own face with force before let out a scream to get everyone’s attention. “Alright rookies, enough with the chitchat, back in the game!”

The game proceeded smoothly, without any other accident. Soon, the time to tidy up the gym and go home came. It didn’t take much time to gather all the balls together, take the net down and tidy the floor, so the sun was still shining despite the late hour. Clouds tinged in orange and lilac floated in the sky, and a light, warm breeze blew as Ennoshita finished locking the gym up, Tanaka waiting beside him so that they could walk the way together, since their houses were barely five minutes apart from each other, and twenty minutes away from Karasuno High.

Everyone else had already left, so Tanaka allowed himself to stay physically close to his boyfriend, not daring to touch him just yet, in case one of the others were to come back because he’d forgotten something in the lockers. He’d always been very careful, and Ennoshita appreciated it deeply. Over the course of the past year, the Captain had started to get more comfortable in showing affection for Tanaka publiclyー in the gym, that is, where everyone knew about their relationship, though nobody had ever asked for confirmation. They just had a suspect, really, but it was nobody’s business, so they’d never mentioned it. 

He would squeeze Tanaka’s shoulder just a little longer, or glance at him while flashing a shy smile. He’d hand him the water bottle, or let Tanaka drink from his, and vice versa. Little things that showed that he cared. Not that Tanaka didn’t know, anyway. Karasuno’s MVP was well-aware that he was loved, since Ennoshita had never let him feel otherwise. And Tanaka, on his part, never took it for granted, and always reciprocated the love as much as he could. In private, though. He didn’t want to overwhelm Ennoshita, and even if the Captain had once told him that he could let loose a bit, Tanaka had politely declined; he’d rather waited for them to be somewhere more private, just in case.

Both Tanaka and Ennoshita knew about the suspicions, and the latter was extremely grateful for the caring and understanding people he had around. In all honesty, he wasn’t ready to come out just yet, but maybe, for the annual gathering with the former third years and the former first yearsー the team that had made it to the Nationals when Ennoshita and Tanaka were second-years, basicallyー that was going to be held in December, a tradition of theirs. Maybe then he was going to tell everyone.

Ennoshita had told his plan to Tanaka a month prior, and the buzz-head boy had been fully supportive, and had told his boyfriend many, _many_ times that there was no need to come out unless he wanted to. 

“Okay, I’m done. Let’s go home, Ryū.” the Captain smiled, a gentle look in his eyes as he timidly extended a hand. Tanaka looked at it for a second, unsure on what to do, and then proceeded to low-five his boyfriend. “You did a great job today, Captain!” he added, smirking.

The brunette looked dumbfounded. He glanced at his own hand and then back at Tanaka, cocking a thin eyebrow, face scrunching up in confusion. “What the hell was _that?”_

Takana blinked. “A... low-five?” 

“Are you serious!?” Ennoshita screeched, and Tanaka gasped in shock.

“What the hell, Chika!?”

“I put my hand out for you to hold it and you give me a _low-five?_ The hell’s wrong with you, Ryū?”

Tanaka blushed, “I didn’t know you wanted me to hold your hand, stupid! How was I supposed to know? We- we usually wait until we’re out of sight!” he said, whispering the last part.

Ennosita’s cheeks darkened too. “I wanted to try something new, okay? Geez! Whatever, justー let’s get going.” he huffed. Before he could take a step, Tanaka got ahold of his wrist, grip gentle but steady. Ennoshita turned around to face him, visibly embarrassed. 

“I’m sorry.” Tanaka muttered, “I didn’t know you felt like holding hands here, but we can, if you still want to.”

“No, _I’m_ sorry, Ryū. It was, like, the heat of the moment, but I should’ve said it instead of taking for granted that you would’ve magically understood my intentions.” Ennoshita fumbled for words, gaze low. Then, he moved his arm that was being held by Tanaka, and shifted his hand so that it could grab at his boyfriend’s, grip delicate. “I’m a bit sweaty, sorry.” he added with a low chuckle.

Tanaka smiled, though he couldn’t hide the concern in his grey eyes as he hummed. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can wait until we’re far from school. Or, you could come over. Saeko won’t be back before the early morning, so you could stay for dinner, if you feel like it. I’ll tell her to call me when she’s about to come home, so that I can take you back to your place before she sees you.” he says, “Though, she wouldn’t mind having you over. She loves you, you know?”

Ennoshita laughed, shaking his head, “She couldn’t even remember my name until after the Nationals, and you and I had known each other for a year already, during which I used to come over at least twice a month! I’m not sure she’s as fond of me as you claim, really.”

“That’s just because she used to drink a lot more than she does now, come on! She likes you, I’m sure of it. Chika, she sees how I am when you’re around. I can fool the othersー well, not even that, apparently. But what I was saying is that I can’t fool _her,_ ‘cause Saeko knows me as her own mind, babe.” Tanaka explained, letting the pet name slip, “I get all lovey-dovey around you, and you know it. Like, I can feel my eyes changing shape when I look at that pretty face of yours! She’s happy if I’m happy, and she _knows_ that you make me happy.”

“Pffft, now you’re just mocking me. Since when you’re so sentimental?” Ennoshita rolled his eyes, jokingly pushing Tanaka away. 

“I have always been sentimental, stupid!” he mumbled, and Ennoshita didn’t let him go. Instead, he pulled him into a hug; Tanaka waited a second for confirmation.

Ennoshita didn’t nod nor shake his head. He all but started walking, until Tanaka was with his back against the cement wall. The buzz-haired boy blushed visibly, eyes shying away. “O-one of the others could see us, babe!”

“I know. I don’t care. I trust the team with this secret, and the team only. I don’t care if they see this, I don’t care if they’ll finally have the undeniable proof that I love you. I do, and I want the world to know. W-well, not the world, but my little world, at least. Until it lasts...” Ennoshita breathed out, voice wavering.

“Chikara…”

“I don’t want this to end. High school, I mean. It was tough, but I had so much fun and I feel like I’ve changed a lot in the past three years. Weー fuck!ー we went to Nationals. _Nationals,_ Ryū! A-and after everything, after I tried to run away because I was too lazy and demotivated, after I let the team down multiple times, you guys chose me as the Captain. Me, the Captain of one of the powerhouses in Miyagi. I don’tーit feels so unreal. And everything’s almost over. Forever. I won’t get to play with the team anymore, I won’t get to see you as much, I won’t get to experience the familiarity of this place again, the atmosphere of…” his rambling got cut off by a choked sob.

Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, “Fuck, m’sorry. Man, what the hell’s wrong with me, what are my hormones even doing today!” he exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood. Truth is, Ennoshita wasn’t sad, no. What he was experiencing was something entirely different, something that he couldn’t quite describe.

Tanaka’s heart squeezed in his chest, and he gently tightened the hold around Chikara’s shaking body, feeling his own stomach sink to a pit. “It’s okay, Chika, let it all out.” he murmured into his shoulder. “I know what you mean. It sucks that we have to leave everything just like that, it sucks so bad. Fuck, I miss our senpai, I miss all of them, and I already miss the second-years, and even the new first-years. I miss all of them already, and I feel like I’ve been missing them for years, if- if that makes any sense." he stifled a sob, determined not to cry there and then, not when Ennoshita was like that.

“But,” he continued, “it’s not like we’re going to die right after we graduate. Things will change, and it will be hard at first, but we’ll be okay. And- and if we start acting all sappy _now,_ we won’t enjoy the last two weeks we can still spend here at Karasuno, among these loud, lovely hotheads.”

Ennoshita laughed despite himself. “Yeah…”

“And, hey, you’ve never let anyone down, by the way. We were first-years, we were, what, fifteen? You just needed an extra push and a little time to think things through. Nobody ever blamed you for that, you know it, right?” Tanaka spoke, voice low and warm. Ennoshita snuggled into the boy’s shoulderー good thing that the two were almost the same height. 

“M’sorry, I just got overwhelmed by a bunch of things.” he spoke, “Would you… mind if I spent the night with you? I need some extra cuddles.”

“Of course not! I’ll ask Saeko to sleep somewhere else for tonight andー”

“No, no. It’s her house, you can’t ask her that, Ryū.” Ennoshita chuckled, “It’s fine if she sees me. Just, maybe let’s not tell her everything just yet?”

“Of course, okay, we don’t have to do that. Though, she wouldn’t pry, you know? I mean, unless she’s super drunk, but we’ll be out of her sight before that. I will take you back home at, like, 7AM so that you can freshen up and take your stuff for school? Since we don’t have morning practise, we can leave later than usual.”

Ennoshita nodded, “Yeah, that sounds great. Thank you, Ryū.” he said, offering a gentle smile. Slowly, he cupped his boyfriend’s face, rubbing callous thumbs on his cheeks. “I’m going to kiss you if that’s okay for you. But only a little. We can continue later, eventually.”

Tanaka giggled, “As you wish, Captain.”

The kiss was soft, delicate and modest; moist lips met, allowing the two boys to take each other’s taste in, so familiar and reassuring. Their hands were on the other’s hips, going back and forth a short distance, caressing the body hidden under the tracksuit. Tanaka and Ennoshita pulled apart shortly after, both smiling.

“I’m glad I got to do that.” Ennoshita breathed out, “I’ve always wanted to kiss you here, baby.”

“Same! Chika, I need to confess: it’s hot when you kiss me, but when you’re all sweaty from practise, it’s even hotter. I’m very glad I got to kiss you here and now.”

The Captain snorted, “Yeah, I think you’re hot when you’re all gross too.”

“Whaー hey! I never said ‘gross’!” Tanaka gasped in utter betrayal, though playfully. “Whatever, Captain, let’s get going, I’m starving, I was thinking that I could make _omurice,_ if you’d like to.”

Ennoshita nodded, and the two left for Tanaka’s place. The sky had gotten slightly darker in the meantime, and the faint outline of the half-moon was already visible despite the clouds that seemed thicker and heavier than earlier. Fingers intertwined, the two third-years kept walking in comfortable silence, aware that despite the fact that change was imminent and inexorable, they would have still had each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: “Chika” as in short for “Chikara”, obviously.  
> That little voice in my head: “chika” as in “lady” in Spanish.  
> Also, I wrote this in one sitting, I feel so badass sometimes.  
> ー  
> I didn't expect this to blow up, I'm speechless… 400 kudos? Y'all want me to cry, admit it already. THANK YOU SO MUCH.  
> Aaaanyway, I’m back from my hiatus, I missed you all! How did your holidays go? What did you do in the meantime? I hope to find you well despite everything :) stay safe and hydrated!  
> ー  
> ❗ Don't read and run ❗ leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed this, please. Your support means the world to me :D


	13. MatsuHana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matsukawa: 28 years old.  
> Hanamaki: 28 years old.  
> ー  
> ⚠️none.

Hanamaki couldn’t take it anymore. He’d tried to go past it, he’d tried to convince himself that things were going to change for the better on their own, that he just needed to wait, that Matsukawa was going to come around by himself and realise just what he was doing.

But that didn’t seem to be happening, and Hanamaki had had enough. Taking a steadying breath, the man with light hair approached his boyfriend, who was currently sitting on the couch, reading a book that Hanamaki had got him for his previous birthday, when the situation was more bearable. 

“Issei.” he called, no pet name. “We need to talk.”

The man raised his chocolate eyes from the paper they were fixed on, blinking and glancing at the man who stood in front of the couch. “About what? You okay?” he asked, dread knotting his stomach.

Hanamaki shook his head, fists tight at his sides. “I… I can’t do this anymore, I can’t keep watching you do this to me, t-to yourself.”

Matsukawa put down the book, straightening and walking in front of his boyfriend, tentative hands reaching out and resting delicately on his shoulders. “Wh-what are you talking about? Hiro, what is it?” he asked, urgent. A billion thoughts raced in his rapidly-panicking mind, thinking of what he’d done that could’ve upset the love of his life so much.

“Takahiroー” he repeated, only to be cut off by Hanamaki’s voice.

“Promise me you won’t get mad.” the peach-haired breathed out, shaky.

The man swallowed, throat tight. “I… I won’t. Just, tell me, please.”

Hanamaki took another deep breath. He pulled away from the other’s hands, taking a couple of steps back and extending his hand in front of him, not touching Matsukawa. He pointed a finger at the man, and inhaled deep.

“Hiro, youー”

“What the  _ actual  _ fuck is that!?” Hanamaki screeched. At first, Matwukawa was taken aback, mouth slightly agape as he tried to process the words. He looked down, and as soon as he did so, he groaned.

“You are seriously a piece of shit, Takahiro.” he sighed, “Quit being bitchy about my outfits. You’re an adult, seriously. You scared me.”

The other man stuttered, “Iー ‘bitchy’? I’m trying to help you here, dude! Like, what, what the hell are you even wearing? I can’t take it anymore. I can’t. It’s like being punched in the face every time I rest my eyes upon one of your absurd combinations.”

Matsukawa rolled his eyes, “Now you’re just being dramatic. It’s not that bad.”

Hanamaki joined his hands, palms flat against each other, the side of his index pressed softly against his own mouth. He inhaled, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. The man had always been supportive of the idea that anyone could wear what they pleased, but now Matsukawa was just playing around, there was no other explanation.

The man with dark hair was wearing a T-shirt that he’d been gifted by the gym where he worked out twice a week; it was of a dull military green, paired with a bright burgundy triacetate tracksuit, and if they had to be honest, neither of them knew where it came from. With that, Matsukawa had also decided to wear fuzzy socks with little dogs on them, surely stolen from his older sister. Last, but not least, Hanamaki’s nightmare: the bright yellow crocs hurt his eyes for a number of reasons, and he couldn’t stand to witness how the love of his life wore those proudly. He couldn’t, that’s where he drew the line. 

“Stop staring.” Matsukawa mumbled, “It’s not a big deal.”

Hanamaki chuckled, bitter. “Lately, your fashion's style is worse than Oikawa's.” he said, “Hell, I still remember whatever that  _ outfit, _ if we can call it so, that he put together when we were third-years. Your style's worse than that, now.” he grumbled, “You only dress fancy for work and then, as soon as you come home…” Hanamaki vaguely gestured to his boyfriend’s fit, “You, my man, you beat high school-Oikawa in terms of poor fashion style. I’m sorry to say this, but it’s true.”

“Wait, wait. You mean,  _ the  _ outfit? Like, the one with checked blue-and-red capri pants that he was obsessed with in the third year?” the man blinked, a hint of horror in his voice. 

Hanamaki crossed his arms, nodding, grave.  _ “The  _ outfit, Issei.”

“Okay, now  _ that _ is mean!” Matsukawa hissed in shock. He looked at himself, and then back at his partner, “You're the one to talk? Those bangs you had back in high school were horrifying, I wish you'd let your hair grow a bit back then.”

“Like your eyebrows? Thicker than my thighs.” he muttered, clicking his tongue as his head tilted slightly to the left. But when his boyfriend didn’t reply, the pink-haired man’s expression sobered up.

“You don't like them? I thought they’d made me look manlier.” Matsukawa mumbled, index and middle finger subconsciously rising to brush against the brows. Hanamaki sighed, action followed by a light chuckle.

“Babe, no, I was kiddingー wasn't this some kind of... teasy roleplay?”

The taller man shrugged, malicious. “Not really, no, mine wasn't. Your hair  _ was _ terrible, Hiro.”

“Ah? Fine. I'll cut you a deal. I'll let the comments on my hair slide  _ if  _ you let me buy you some new outfits.”

“Dude, no, don't go waste your money like that, you'd just started saving up! And you were pretty already, even with those weird bangs. I was joking. Please, I'm serious.” he fretted. 

“Nope!” Hanamaki exclaimed, popping the ‘p’, “Sometimes a man just wants to treat his man, you know? I mean, why else would I have sweated so hard to get a good job? Buckle up, we're going shopping! Don't be stubborn, now, Issei.” Hanamaki had tried so hard to find a job, struggling to get one despite his best efforts; he’d only managed to find a job that actually made him earn something fairly recently.

“Hiro, are you for real?” Matsukawa mumbled, shocked and mildly amazed.

“A hundred percent! It’s time for a change.” 

The man blinked, baffled. Before he could say anything, however, his boyfriend turned around, and pushed him toward the bedroom. He pushed him down on a bed, grinning, and for a moment Matsukawa was tempted to go and unzip his pants, but when Hanamaki pulled away, and headed toward the closet, the dark-haired man growled. 

“What, are you going to pick my clothes for me now?” he asked. 

“Yes, until your fashion sense improves enough.” Hanamaki replied, fiddling with the contents of the closet, “Come on, look how pretty this shirt is, you never wear it! I’m sure that it’d look good with those capri pants Iー ah, found ‘em!” he said, and tossed the clothes to his boyfriend. “Chop chop, the mall isn’t going to stay open all day!”

The two of them left the house shortly after, and Matsukawa reluctantly followed Hanamaki as he basically dragged him to the shopping center. Luckily, it only took about fifteen minutes by bus to get there. There were so many stores, and Matsukawa felt lost. The last time he’d gone shopping for clothes, it had been many years prior, probably back in high school. That was a  _ long  _ time ago, he thought, nostalgic. After that, he’d only needed to buy suits and shirts for his job as a funeral home employee, so it was only a matter of entering one specific tailor’s shop to let them take the measures for what he needed.

This was different.

“Ah, Uniqlo! I bet they have what we’re looking for.” Hanamaki chirped, fingers still intertwined with Matsukawa’s. Despite being reluctant, the latter smiled at the excited grin on his boyfriend’s face. He knew how much Hanamaki loved doing things together, and the more mundane these experiences were, the happier he felt. Matsukawa was the same.

“Let’s go then.” Matsukawa coaxed, “I can’t say I’m not scared of what you’re going to do to me, but I’m ready.”

“Dramatic much?” Hanamaki chuckled, walking inside the shop, still holding hands, “Trust good ol’ Takahiro on this one.”

Matsukawa was forced to work as a shelf, essentially, having to carry everything that Hanamaki found appealing for his boyfriend, tossing it to him while he looked around himself like a kid in a candy store. Matsukawa loved that look in Hanamaki’s eyes.

After about twenty minutes spent picking clothes, Hanamaki grinned, somewhat malicious, and led Matsukawa toward the fitting rooms, that were almost all empty, luckily enough. Not many went shopping on a Thursday afternoon.

Despite knowing for a fact that taking pictures while wearing clothes that had not been purchased yet, Hanamaki swiftly took about a hundred of them of his boyfriend in different outfits, who giggled and blushed all the way through the ordeal, muttering “This is ridiculous.” or “I can’t go around like this.” every few minutes, much to Hanamaki’s amusement. At one point, they were both laughing so hard that Matsukawa’s sides hurt, and Hanamaki had to bite down on his hand, hard, to keep from laughing so loud that he would’ve startled the employees.

He also made sure to send a few fics to his close friends from Seijō, and Matsukawa didn’t even try to stop him, knowing it would’ve been futile. The group chat immediately flooded with comments, but Hanamaki opted to read them later, determined to focus all of his attention on his man. 

Once they left the store, carrying more bags than what their arms could keep, still giggling as they clumsily attempted at holding hands despite they were obviously occupied, Matsukawa’s eyes lit up. 

“Ice-cream!” he said, “That’s it, I’m treating you to ice-cream. Or would you rather have a crêpe?”

Hanamaki thought about it for a moment. “A coffee would be enough.”

“Ow, come on! Don’t act like an old geezer, now. We can get coffee and ice-cream slash crêpe, mh?”

“First of all, I  _ am  _ an old geezer. Second, coffee isn’t for old geezers, it’s fancy.” Hanamaki bit, scoffing jokingly.

“I’m sorry, what exactly makes you think that coffee is ‘fancy’? I mean, it’s good, but it’s literally just coffee! Crêpes are fancier.” 

“What? They’re not.”

“Are too.” 

“Are not!”

“Are. Too.” Matsukawa stuck his tongue out, already making a bee-line for the crêpe booth. “Come on, now, tell me what you’d like.”

“I can order by myself, you know?” Hanamaki laughed, “Don’t treat me like a child.”

“You’re the one who did that by dragging yours truly to go shopping after you literally picked my outfit for the day,  _ dad.”  _ Matsukawa hummed, and the man with peach-hair nodded after a moment.

“True that. Then, huh, I’ll have chocolate and strawberry, please. Oh, I want icing sugar too.”

“Finally, you’re acting like a man of your age. I’ll be back.” Matsukawa chuckled, and his boyfriend elbowed him lightly. After struggling with the bags, and telling Hanamaki to stay there, the man with dark hair went to the booth; he came back five minutes later, holding two big, steaming French crêpes.

The two men found a bench to sit on, resting their legs and arms, and dug in. They sat in silence for the first few minutes, savouring the sweet taste of their food, humming in pleasure and eyeing each other every few bites, just to take in the wonderful sight that each boy was according to the other.

Hanamaki was the first one to finish his crêpe, and after he put the wrapped in a plastic bag he always carried inside his backpack, he leant forward, elbows resting on his knees, gaze fixed to the man sitting right next to him. Matsukawa took notice a few moments later, and grinned, blushing.

“W-what?” he asked, flustered.

“You’re beautiful.” Hanamaki breathed out. His smile was soft, genuine, eyes filled with love. The two of them had been together for a really long time, ever since the second year of high school. Almost everyone on the volleyball team knew, and the welcoming and safe environment actually helped Hanamaki, who was the shyer of the two, surprisingly enough, to build up the courage and explicitly ask Matsukawa out on a date at the age of twenty, after three years of silent pining, stolen glances and unofficial dates under the guise of study dates. 

The man with darker hair brought a fist up, coughing slightly, face heating up. “All of the sudden?”

“Shut up, I tell you every day.” Hanamaki bickered. And it was true, he did. Both of them complemented each other often, and yet, for some unknown reason, Matsukawa always struggled to take compliments. Hanamaki didn’t mind; he found his flustered grin cute, actually.

Matsukawa finished his food as well, and after handing the wrap to Hanamaki for him to put it in the bag, they picked the shopping bags up and started to walk aimlessly, still holding hands.

“Where should we go now?” Hanamaki asked.

“Mh, maybe we could hit the arcade. I haven’t been there in forever.” 

The other man beamed, “Yes, let’s!”

Luckily, the arcade wasn’t too far from there, because the bags were heavy to carry, leaving marks into their forearms, and neither of them wanted to get new bruises. Volleyball had been fun, but the trauma of going back home with angry, painful red marks on their arms had been permanent, and enough to traumatise them for life.

They got to the arcade soon, and immediately headed for the Dancing Stage, their usual battle field. The arcade was mostly empty, if not for some high schoolers that were busy playing the newest arcade games and talking about the latest episode of some anime they’d watched. Hanamaki and Matsukawa set the bags down, taking their jackets off and beginning to stretch, silently, sparing glances filled with friendly rivalry but with just as much serious intent of winning.

“I hope you’re ready to lose,  _ Mattsun.” _

“I hope you’re ready as well, _ Makki.” _

After stretching some more, Matsukawa finally inserted the coin, and the countdown started. He looked at his boyfriend once again, who did the same, grinning. And so, the battle began.

One would think that two almost thirty year-olds dancing their souls out would be far too inappropriate, and some people certainly thought that, but Hanamaki and Matsukawa didn’t care in the slightest about anything of the sorts. Their first dateー official, that isー had been at the arcade, too, and even before they got together, they’d always hang out there with the other members of the team, or by themselves, with the excuse that they needed to blow off some steam or spend a bit of the money they’d been given by their relatives. Excuses, mostly.

Volleyball was enough to tire them out, obviously, and the money they managed to collect from their parents and close relatives in the span of a month was never more than 5000¥, money with which they had to buy volleyball equipment, like new knee pads or medical tape for their fingers, and food when Oikawa decided to drag them all somewhere, or when they didn’t have an extra snack and needed some energy to make it home without collapsing after training.

But this was their special way of having fun together, the perfect date. They couldn’t have asked for better when they discovered just how much they were both into this kind of thing.

“You’re wack, Issei!” Hanamaki grinned, still dancing. 

His boyfriend only grunted, though in an amused, not angry manner. “I’m just warmin’ up!”

Pearls of sweat dripped down their foreheads, slightly soaking the collar of their shirts and armpits, but they didn’t care, since they knew they could just go freshen up in the bathroom once they were done dancing. They laughed all the way through the competition, pushing at each other slightly when one was far too behind, score-wise; Matsukawa had almost fell down the platform, but it was to his advantage, because Hanamaki was so busy laughing, folded into two, grip around his stomach tight as he fought the tears, that Matsukawa managed to win one of the dances by a long shot.

After approximately thirty minutes, they decided to call it quits. Matsukawa had won, but the men knew how it was only because Hanamaki had been too distracted after the ‘accident’ to focus. Still, this didn’t mean that Matsukawa didn’t brag.

“And  _ I  _ am the one who’s wack, huh?” he said, elbowing Hanamaki delicately as the man was washing his face in the arcade’s bathroom, “It’s okay, Hiro, you don’t need to hide the tears. Crying when you’re defeated is very manly.”

Hanamaki dried his face with the handkerchief he always had with him, sighing. “If you want to keep boasting after you obviously cheated, do it. Sometimes, it’s better to let the kids do what they want to do, and eventually they’ll stop.” he teased, trying to put on a serious face and failing miserably.

Matsukawa laughed. “You’re such a brat, Hiro.”

“Says who!” Hanamaki laughed. Once he was dry, he gently placed a hand on Matsukawa’s shoulder. “Is it bad if I kiss you while we’re in the men’s bathroom?”

“I say, let’s go for it.” 

Their lips pressed against each other’s, soft, delicate, warm and familiar. Matsukawa never wished that they’d been home more; he wanted to make love to Hanamaki, to kiss his each and every part, to hold him tight and feel his heartbeat. The man with peach-hair too felt in the exact same way. He wanted to cradle Matsukawa’s messy mane, grip the man’s body close to his own, breathe his scent in without having to worry about a thing.

“Hiro, w-we should go home. Immediately.”

“Agreed.” the other replied, fanned. “Let’s hurry.”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa reached their shared apartment less than thirty minutes later. They barely dropped the bags in the entrance, kicking their shoes off and making way for the bedroom, not even locking the front door as they wrapped their arms around the other, hands sliding under the clothes, greedy, needy, entranced. At one point, Hanamaki directly picked the other man up, despite weighing almost the same, and brought him into the bedroom.

And, once again, just like every other day, they blessed their luck for having each other at their side. Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I successfully troll you? Were you scared at the beginning 👀? Probably not. Oh well, I tried.  
> ー  
> I will never stop making fun of that one Oikawa's outfit. Seriously. Also, this is obviously OOC because we all saw how these two are both kings of fashion, this one's on me.  
> ー  
> I wanted to work on this yesterday, but the Given movie destroyed me. My apologies.  
> ー  
> UNIQLO IS AMAZING, I WENT THERE WHEN I WAS IN JAPAN AND IT WAS HHHHH THE BEST. It's a real thing, I don't own the name, just to be clear!! Also, 5000¥ = $47 = 39€ = £34 circa. I've never had an allowance :( but my parents would give me the money if I had to hang out with my friends, luckily. Still, I used to hang out rarely so, yeah, I had my own money only after I started tutoring at the age of 18.  
> ー  
> ❗ Don't read and run ❗ leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed this, please. Your support means the world to me :D


	14. UkaTake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ukai: 32 years old.  
> Takeda: 34 years old.  
> 一  
> ⚠️ none.

It was barely seven in the morning, but Takeda and Ukai had been up for two hours already. Not that they’d managed to get any sleep, anyway, not in the past few days. And after today, maybe they were going to be able to rest. Maybe. Only time would tell. They’d rented a room in Tōkyō, so that they would be closer to where they needed to be today.

“Ittetsu, we need to go or we’ll never make it!” Ukai called, hand already wrapped around the doorknob, “The traffic’s gonna be terrible if we wait any longer!”

Rustling could be heard from the other side of the apartment, and the Karasuno’s assistant coach rolled his eyes, no real annoyance behind his action; he knew that his husband was nervous for the upcoming day, and he was, too. 

“I’m here!” Takeda screeched, frantically skidding on the _genkan_ to put his shoes on in a rush. “How do I look? Do you think it’s too much?” he fretted, turning around to show his husband what he was wearing. “Gosh, I’m so nervous! I don’t want to embarrass them, maybe I shouldn’tー”

Ukai chuckled softly, “You sound like a paranoid parent. They _invited_ us, it’s gonna be fine. I’m sure they’ll all want to see you.” he reassured, “You look good, really. Now let’s go.”

Takeda only nodded, and after locking the door behind himself, he flung himself into the car, engine already started. “I’ve never been more anxious in my whole life.” the teacher muttered, rubbing the palms of his hands on the legs of his pants, to dry the sweat, “I just hope that they’ll be okay!”

“Babe, they’re grown-ups, you don’t have to worry this much!” the youngest man sighed, though it was hard to conceal his own concern. He continued, not taking his eyes off the road, “Though, I have to admit that I hope that they’ll get along. I mean, they’ve been playing for different teams for a while, so who knows what might happen. If they bicker, I’m gonna kick their asses.”

“Ah! So you _are_ worried, Shin.” Takeda grinned. “We’re starting to sound like our parents.”

“Right? I was gonna say that too. What have our lives come to?” he laughed, “Seriously though, I know that they’ve both improved a lot, not only volleyball-wise, but also, like, with interactions and all of that. I… I just want them to have fun today.”

“And to win.” Takeda added with a hum, winking.

“W-well, that too, obviously! But it’s more important that they have fun. Everyone will be there to watch them. Their senpai, kōhai, relatives, and us. I hope they won’t get too nervous.” he breathed out, furrowing his eyebrows, visibly pensive.

Takeda couldn’t help but chuckle. “Do you remember how much Hinata-kun used to freak out on his first year? I was so worried for him all the time.” he said.

“Plus, that accident against Kamomedai. I hope that he won’t do that again. Imagine if something like that happens today and heー”

“Okay, enough! Don’t jinx it, man!” Ukai cut him off, screaming, eyes wide, “He was sixteen, I’m sure he won’t repeat the same mistakes now that he’s, like, twenty-six.” the man growled. And then, silence followed, the dawning realisation slowly sinking in.

Twenty-six years old.

The former first-years that Ukai and Takeda had taken to the Nationals were _that_ old, now. Had it really been almost ten years? Those _kids_ they’d watched grow, those _kids_ that they’d cared for as much as they could… were not _kids_ anymore. The thought that the people they’d trainedー the ones that always yelled, that they’d seen laugh, joke around, cry, sweat and improveー had become adults, facing the world on their own, fighting for themselves, it never failed to make Ukai thank Takeda for persuading him.

Ukai and Takeda didn’t want children, but both of them knew that the high schoolers that came and left in what felt like the blink of an eye were, in fact, family to them. The two men didn’t know if it was because the team that had made it to the Nationals was their very first serious experience as a coaches, or maybe because they’d met in that oh-so distant 2012, but that team was going to be their greatest pride and joy.

A soft, almost inaudible sniffle brought Ukai back to reality. He glanced at his side, eyes immediately returning to the road. The grip on the steering wheel was tight, and his knuckles were starting to turn white.

“Ittetsu…”

“M’sorry, sorry.” the other replied, taking his glasses off and drying the tears that threatened to spill, “It’s justー they all got so big, and I’m so proud of them. Not only Hinata-kun and Kageyama-kun. I mean _all_ of them. Wh-when I used to come to your store and beg you, I knew that they all had potential, and I believed in th-them more than I can express with words, b-but I would have never thought thatー I didn’t think they would…” the man sobbed, shaking his head and furiously rubbing his face to prevent the tears from falling. Clearly, to no avail.

Ukai felt his heart squeeze, and he attempted to swallow down the lump that clawed at his suddenly-dry throat. He understood. He understood completely. “I… I know.”

The man extended an arm and softly rubbed circles on his husband’s back, eyes still on the road, reluctantly. At least, Ukai thought, Takeda wasn’t going to see how shiny they were. “It’s okay, let it out. Stress, sleep-deprivation and anxiety sure play some tricks on our minds, huh? But we’ll be okay, _they_ will be okay. It’s alright, babe.”

The other nodded, “Y-yeah, I know, right? I f-feel so dramatic now, b-but it’s all so much to take in. They’re… Our kids are playing at the Olympics. The _Olympics,_ Shin. It’sー it feels unreal.”

Ukai’s gaze softened. “You know why they got so far?” 

He didn’t really wait for a response, knowing that Takeda was confused enough as it was. The youngest smiled, and continued. “They all got so far because _you_ believed in them. You, Ittetsu, you were there from the beginning, you worked so hard for them since day one. _You_ made all of this possible, never forget that. Only you.”

Takeda put his glasses back on with shaky hands, and tried to suppress the hiccups. “You were th-there too, Shin. I didn’t know anything about volleyball, if not for a couple of rules. I would’ve been lost without your guidance, and the guys would’ve never made it if not for your help!”

“If you hadn’t been so persevering and hadn’t insisted that much, I wouldn’t have joined the team. After all those times I rejected the offer, after all those times I yelled at you to leave me alone, you still kept showing up, bowing as if I were the Emperor himself, and insisted.” Ukai explained, _“Anyone_ else would have given up. I would have done that, too. But _you_ didn’t.”

Takeda couldn’t hide the dark shade of red that his cheeks and ears took, “I j-just knew that you were a good person, I was p-positive that you would’ve changed your mind, love. If I’d been more convincing from the start, I could have made you join sooner, probably.” he added, chuckling.

“Just know that I was very close to calling the cops on you.” Ukai laughed, “That one time when you snuck up on me, I was also about to die of a heart attack. Imagine that, ‘high school teacher stalks and scares to death a local store-owner’, what a way to go!”

The teacher brought a hand to cover his face, embarrassed and amused, “You were praising my perseverance just now, so why are you retracting all of the sudden!? Pick one side!” he yelled, voice high-pitched, “Besides, I wasn’t stalking you, I was just following you!”

“That is the exact definition of stalking.” Ukai deadpanned.

“N-no, I didn’t mean it like that! I meantー ugh, you’re impossible.” Takeda growled, though he wasn’t really angry. “Well, whatever it was, it worked, so kudos to me.”

Ukai scoffed, teasing. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever makes you sleep at night, _Specks.”_

“Well, _Ukai-kun,_ if that’s how it’s going to be, then go for it.” the man propped himself on the armrest of the car’s door, fist holding his face up as he pouted jokingly, “Just don’t come to me when our former students will submerge you with questions about our matching rings, or how we call each other by our first names. You’re on your own.”

Ukai bleached. He’d never been very open about his relationships, not that he’d had many, anyway. Before Takeda, he’d only been with a girl, back in high school, and only for a couple of monthsー it turned out that he wasn’t into womenー and then with another guy, during his first year in university.

Neither of the two relationships had been rendered public, and only his close friends and Takeda were told those stories. Not even Ukai’s mother knew about them, so Takeda felt extremely privileged when Ukai had drunkenly told him the story of his love-life, but not before confessing his _undying_ love for the teacher, who had pretended as if nothing happened for a while.

Takeda had never brought the story up, and waited for Ukai to ask him again a couple of months later, knowing perfectly well that he still needed time. Takeda did, as well.

Ukai gulped, “No, no, no. Don’t leave me alone, you know I’m terrible when it comes to these things, man! Sorry I said you stalked me, I knew you meant well back then.” he fretted, and even if he couldn't see it from his position, he was sure that Takeda was grinning like a hyena.

“Ittetsu, _please,_ I’m going to die if you leave me alone with them. I can’t handle that many people on my own. Please, stay?”

Takeda could only laugh, amused at his husband’s sudden change. “Fine, fine, I’ll stick with you the whole time. Oh, and now that you mentioned ‘that many people’, I just realised that about forty of our former students are gonna be there. That’s… a lot.” he reasoned.

“I wonder how they’re doing.” Ukai muttered, “We only meet once a year, and when they visit the gym, _if_ they come at all. I barely know what they’re up to.” 

“Well, we know what Kageyama-kun and Hinata-kun have been up to, that’s a start. Oh, did you know that them, Yachi-san, Tsukishima-kun and Yamaguchi-kun are close friends? I could already tell the last time I saw them, but the other day I met Sugawara-kun and he showed me a picture of the group in Rio De Janeiro! They went a few weeks ago.” Takeda chirped out, visibly happy, “To think that they wouldn’t even shake hands when they met..!”

Ukai snorted, “Yeah, Tsukishima and Kageyama especially, they absolutely despised each other. I’m glad that they grew out of that phase, I can’t help but feel proud of those two. Tsukishima still plays for the Sendai Frogs, doesn’t he? I went to a match a few months ago, and he absolutely nailed the blocks. As usual.”

“Ah, I remember you told me about it. Man, I wish I could’ve been there.” Takeda sighed, leaning into the seat with a huff. “At least, Tsukishima-Kun, Yamaguchi-kun and Yachi-san are still here in Miyagi sometimes.”

“Not all of ‘em. Like, Yachi works in Tōkyō, though she visits quite often. I met her at the _konbini_ the other day, that’s why I know.” Ukai corrected, “Didn’t I tell you?”

The look of betrayal on Takeda’s face was almost comical. “You didn’t! How did you find her?”

“She said she’s doing great, luckily. The job’s cool, and she has her own place, so I guess she’s doing alright.” the man at the wheel explained, “If you remember, the last time we all met, Yachi had said that she was having some problems with the studio she worked for, but it’s all good, now.”

Takeda nodded. He remembered Yachi’s words, now that Ukai repeated them. At least everything was okay now, so that was more than enough. 

“You said you met Sugawara?” Ukai asked.

“Yes, I meet him fairly often at the library, he’s a very hard-working young man. Being an elementary school teacher must be tough, but he’s always had a way with people. Plus, I noticed that he was wearing a nice ring.” he hummed.

Ukai’s mouth gaped. “You’re kidding? _Sugawara?_ Who's the lucky one?”

“I’m not going to gossip like that, Shin, it’s rude!”

“...So you don’t know either.”

Takeda stayed silent for a moment, before he lowered his eyes, defeated. “No, I don’t. But I have a suspicion. I’m sure you do, too.”

The former blond hummed. Before they had time to even look at each other, they both uttered out the same exact name, and burst into uncontrollable chuckling, trying to shush each other. Still, they were going to find out the truth pretty soon, anyway. The following thirty minutes were spent talking about the other former students animatedly.

Not long after, Ukai finally pulled into the parking lot and found the spot that his former pupils had reserved for the occasion. He turned the car off, but didn’t move. Neither did his husband. Anxiety knotted their stomachs, and they could only blindly reach for each other and hug, despite the uncomfortable position. Gentle but firm arms wrapped around the person in front of each other, face buried in the crook of the neck. 

“They’re gonna be okay.” Ukai muttered, voice suddenly watery. He felt Takeda, who stayed silent, nod his head slightly. “Let’s get going, I’m sure that the others are already there.”

As they paced toward the entrance, showing their tickets to the security guards at the gates, and headed for their reserved seats, the two men didn’t utter a single word, and limited themselves to hold hands, grip reassuring and steadying.

The distant, drowned-out chatter of familiar voices pulled them out of their trance, and as the Takeda and Ukai spotted their former students, all the anxiety that clawed at their chests vanished. 

Their kids were going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just...miss them...so much...all of 'em...why did I set this in the timeskip...why am I hurting myself like that...my babies...my little funky volleyball players and coaches...my loves... *ugly sobbing* yes, I have decided that Yamaguchi and Yachi ALSO went to Rio. By the way, I wrote this in one session, and it's kinda short because I'm very lightheaded today due to anemia  
> 一  
> Only one chapter left :0 can you believe that it's been something like five months since I posted ch1? I hadn't even started s4 at the time, and I have to admit that I'd only read manga spoilers for the finale, I hadn't read the manga yet. Time flies hhhh. See you before the end of the month, stay hydrated and wear your masks :D I can't wait to talk to you about my other projects aaaaaaa!!  
> ー  
> ❗ Don't read and run ❗ leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed this, please. Your support means the world to me :D


	15. KuroDai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo: 17 years old.  
> Daichi: 17 years old.  
> 一  
> ⚠️ mentions of injury.  
> 一  
> Please, just for this once, read the notes at the end. Thank you 🙇 !

Sawamura’s day was definitely not supposed to go like that. The young man had woken up that morning determined to put his soul into the game and _win_ the game. And, for the most part, his plan had gone accordingly.

What he definitely wasn’t planning, was to be forced to leave the court halfway through the match against Wakutani Minami High because of a presumed head injury that he promised he didn’t have. He’d sworn it to the coaches and to his teammates, he’d proved how he could walk and see perfectly fine, but Sawamura’s complaints and pleas had been to no avail, as Ukai led him to the infirmary, trying to coax the distraught and reluctant boy.

Ten minutes later, the nurse had declared that he wasn’t concussed, not before she’d flashed an obnoxiously little light in his eyes, and made him answer a few questions; the woman had still forced him to sit the game out and to rest until his teammates were done, so the Captain had found himself sitting upright on the cot, the scent of antiseptic making him more nauseous than the hit itself had made him一 and no, he wasn’t going to let himself spill his guts, nobody would have believed him if he’d said that it was because of the disgusting smell of disinfectant and sterile tools. 

A soft yet firm knock on the door made the nurse, Ukai and Sawamura jolt slightly, as they all turned toward the source of the noise. A teen with dark hair in a red uniform一 the coach immediately recognised it一 was standing in front of the entrance, timidly glancing inside; he bowed his head slightly, and looked up once again toward the nurse. “Sorry to intrude, my name’s Kuroo Tetsurō. I was wondering if I could visit D一 Sawamura-kun, please.”

Sawamura’s eyes widened comically, but he didn’t say much, and only hinted a tiny smile. The woman and Ukai exchanged a brief glance, before they nodded and got up from their positions, barely nodding their head at the kid.

Before leaving the room, Ukai turned to Sawamura again, “Captain, don’t strain yourself, alright?” he instructed, voice gentle. Humming in agreement, the nurse briefly asked Kuroo to warn them if the other boy were to get dizzy or too sleepy, and then the adults left, sliding the infirmary door closed.

A few beats later, Kuroo finally decided to break the uncomfortable silence, not too gently. He sat on the uncomfortable chair next to the bed, and crossed his arms, eyebrows furrowed in concern and… was it anger? Sawamura wasn’t sure.

“What the hell were you thinking!?” Kuroo screeched.

The other boy chuckled lightly, “Hello to you, too.”

“Hey, don’t get too smart, idiot. Fuck. I almost had a heart attack when I saw you slamming face first into Number #5 like that. And I couldn’t even get to you from the bleachers. Daichi, fuck, w-why can’t you keep your damn eyes open on the court?” 

“If it didn't physically hurt me, I’d roll my eyes right now.” Sawamura scoffed, “You’re too dramatic. And, it was an accident. My mistake, entirely, only an accident. I’m okay.”

Kuroo shook his head. “Yeah well, I wouldn’t be this ‘dramatic’ if you’d, I don’t know, if you’d sprained your ankle or fell on your stupid ass, but allow me to worry if I see my boyfriend almost crack his skull open and die before my eyes.”

“I didn’t一” he couldn’t suppress the snicker, “I didn’t die, it wasn’t that bad. Plus, I’m not even concussed, the nurse already cleared me to join the next match.”

“But you passed out!”

“Yes, for like, thirty seconds.”

Kuroo’s gaze darkened. “It means that you hit your head hard. That’s dangerous.”

Sawamura sighed, resigned. He moved an arm and slightly leaned to the right so that he could place a warm hand onto Kuroo’s cheek. “Tetsu, I’m fine.”

The taller boy bit his lower lip and leaned into the touch, feeling a little less tense now that he could see that his boyfriend seemed, in fact, okay. He’d always had the tendency to observe people closely, and from the moment he’d met Sawamura, not too long ago, he’d immediately noticed how strong, tenacious and selfless he could be. Kuroo wasn’t a fan of the last part, admittedly.

“I’m sorry I scared you, but I promise it’s nothing. If I were in danger, you _know_ that they would’ve sent me to the hospital immediately.” Sawamura breathed out, trying to sound as reassuring as he could manage.

And it was true, Kuroo was aware. Sawamura knew that his boyfriend had always been the kind of guy to stay up at night to read about every possible health condition, keen to be ready in case of emergency, but also for his own interests. That made the Nekoma captain a little too anxious, sometimes, since he tended to look too much into things that weren’t as bad as he made them to be.

“Just…” Kuroo’s voice was soft, a whisper, “Just watch where the fuck you’re going next time!”

Karasuno’s number #1 laughed, nodding his head despite the dull pounding. “I promise. So, uhm, are you going to finally hug me, or were you waiting for me to write a formal request?” he added with a low chuckle, slightly embarrassed.

They’d been together only for a couple of weeks, so the situation was very new to them; some would say that Kuroo and Sawamura had rushed into things, but the truth is that they only did what they felt like was the right thing to do. They’d met at the training camp, and during those few days, they’d immediately grown close; neither of the boys questioned whether that pleasant ache in their chest was just a very solid friendship, or something more. Not until, one day, they’d both decided to open up about their feelings, over the phone.

Distance sure was an issue to be dealt with, but for the time being, the two young men were content with how things were going. Neither of them was out as bisexual yet, so introducing their boyfriend to some relatives and friends without telling them about their orientation first seemed too irrational.

It had all happened so quickly that, frankly, they didn’t care about anyone knowing just yet. Both of them had been clear about how they were still experimenting, testing the waters and taking their sweet time to do so; Kuroo and Sawamura didn’t pressure the other into hurrying their ‘experimenting’ up, and since they’d decided to do this _together,_ it was only fair to wait as much as needed.

Kuroo gulped down and nodded frantically before moving; he sat down on the edge of the thin mattress and slowly, carefully wrapped his muscular arms around Sawamura, gingerly paying attention not to jostle him too much, for fear that he’d break into a million pieces like a crystal glass.

And Sawamura, for his part, could tell. He smiled softly, and let his head rest in the crook of Kuroo’s neck, breathing in the scent of patchouli body wash, letting his own arms hold onto the boy tight, fingers fisting the fabric of the red tracksuit.

They hadn’t seen each other in almost two weeks, and they hadn’t met much at all in their lives, so hugging definitely felt strange, but far from unpleasant or awkward; it was simply… new. The welcoming sensation of being in the arms of someone that they loved一 and even if they were both deeply uncertain whether this was love, or simply the heat of the moment一 was indescribably joyful, it made their chests swell and pound whenever they were close, longing for an embrace, and more.

Kuroo pulled away after a minute, glancing at the door, still closed, and back at his boyfriend. He swallowed the lump in his throat, guts twisting uncomfortably as he opened his mouth, shaky.

“D-Dai, can I一?”

“Yes. Please.” Sawamura said and closed his eyes, cheeks and ears gaining a dark shade as he blushed, visibly. He knew it was about time, he knew that it was going to happen. And he was thrilled. They’d never kissed before, but it was only a matter of time, and even if Sawamura had thought that he wasn’t ready until about ten seconds ago, now he only wished that Kuroo would hurry.

He leaned toward Kuroo slightly, breathing in as quietly as he could through his nose, and waited. But whatever he was waiting for, didn’t come. Sawamura blinked his eyes open, only to find his boyfriend with a hand on his own mouth, eyes wide, pupils pinpoint. He looked somewhat scared.

“W-what?” Sawamura asked, retreating, wide-eyed as well.

“What are you一 Fuck, oh shit, did you want me to kiss you just now?” Kuroo asked incredulously. Sawamura gulped down, loud, and nodded. Had he misunderstood? The captain of Nekoma seemed... scared, and he didn’t like that.

The boy with chocolate-brown hair nodded once again, “Was that not what you wanted to ask?”

“I… N-no. I, ah, I just needed to use the... bathroom.” Kuroo murmured, barely audible.

Silence followed, and not the comfortable kind. Sawamura sat on the bed, hands folded in his lap, eyes fixed to it; Kuroo was still on the edge of the bed, and soundlessly popped his lips, playing with the lobe of his left ear nervously. 

Kuroo cleared his throat, making a sound after what felt like an eternity. “...Well, that was awkward.”

“Y-yeah, definitely. It’s my fault.” Sawamura replied. He buried his face in his hands, ashamed beyond what he could express with words. “I’m so sorry, I _totally_ misread the situation, Tetsu. I should’ve let you finish but I was arrogant and assumed that you一 ah, fuck.” he grabbed a fistful of his own hair, breathing out shakily.

Light-brown eyes shot wide open. “No, no, hey, don’t apologise, you don’t need to! It’s fine. I should’ve been clearer, my tone was totally wrong for the situation. _I’m_ sorry.” Kuroo fretted, letting his head sag forward, “I didn’t want to make it weird, I should’ve just kissed you anyway. Shit, Dai, I’m an idiot.”

“No, you didn’t _have_ to. I didn’t mean to force you, I didn’t want to make you feel uneasy because of this!” Sawamura exclaimed, voice too loud for his own liking. After all, his head still throbbed slightly, and the coach had warned him not to get too riled up if he didn’t want to miss the next game. “Listen, just let me take the blame for this one, it was totally my mistake, mine only.”

Kuroo breathed out a light breath, shrugging, “I mean, I’m not saying that it’s my fault only, or yours entirely, but partially, maybe? Anway, let’s not turn this into a ‘who fucked up more’ competition, alright? It’s okay, nothing bad happened.” he smiled, hoping to soothe his boyfriend’s nervousness.

Sawamura let himself hint a tiny grin too, “Fine, okay. I’m still sorry, though. Did I mess this up?”

The other cocked a dark eyebrow, “What does ‘this’ mean?”

“Like, ‘us’. I scared you, didn’t I? I rushed things a little too much, like I always do. I fucked up.” he muttered, vaguely gesturing to the ice-pack that sat on his leg, now numb, instead of being pressed against his sore face like he was ordered to. “Forgive me, Tetsu.”

Kuroo immediately cradled his boyfriend’s hands into his own一 were they trembling?一 and held them, delicate but firm. They locked eyes, and Sawamura couldn’t help but notice the little sparkle of anger in Kuroo’s shiny orbs.

“Tetsurō?”

“You didn’t ‘fuck up’, Daichi. It was kinda funny too, y’know? You don’t need to worry so much, nor to apologise! Sure, that definitely caught me off guard, but I’m not mad, and you didn’t scare me, alright? I was just, like, confused and wildly unprepared. It’s fine, everything’s fine between us, as far as I’m concerned.” he said, his own voice shaking in the slightest. 

He took a deep breath, grip tightening as he intertwined his fingers with Sawamura’s. “I didn’t think you were ready for that. Kissing, I mean. I didn’t think I was either. But, honestly? If you’re ready, I am. It’s not my first kiss, and I don’t know and don’t care if it’s the same for you, it’s none of my business. But, like, I’m ready to kiss you, to start this with you. If you want to, that is.”

Sawamura stayed silent for a moment, during which he tried to gather his thoughts at the best of his possibility, currently still shaken after sustaining the head injury, no matter how insignificant, and with his mouth that still throbbed painfully, bleeding a little, too. To that, one could add the fear of having possibly scared his boyfriend away. The ‘moment’ dragged on for two whole minutes.

“Daichi? Please, don’t tell me you’re dying because you hit your head too hard.” Kuroo pleaded.

The other young man blinked, sheeping, and snapped back into reality. “N-no, sorry, I was just zoned out. I, huh, I’m ready. For the kiss, I mean. For more than one kiss, of course. I don’t mean ‘only one kiss’, I mean for, like, all the kisses.” he stuttered. Kuroo tilted his head slightly, snickering.

“You sure? You don’t look so good right now.”

“I’m just... flustered.” Sawamura confessed, scratching at the back of his neck, “I’ve never actually kissed anyone before, so now that I know that you did, I feel like I’ll mess up.” he said with a tight grin, bitter. Kuroo’s traits softened, and he shook his head lightly.

“There’s no need to. I won’t judge you, you know I wouldn’t.” he said, voice gentle and calm, “If you want to try, we can. But only if you _want_ to.”

“I do, I was the one who tried to kiss you first.” Sawamura laughed, visibly more relaxed. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to ground himself a bit more. “Okay, I’m ready. Tetsu, let’s kiss.”

Kuroo snorted, quick to bring a fist in front of his mouth and look away, “You’re so pragmatic!”

“That’s not an insult, I don’t mind.” the other bickered, jokingly. He extended his arms calmly, and cradled his boyfriend’s jaw, rubbing soothing circles on Kuroo’s cheeks with his thumbs.

Kuroo smiled, and brought his hand up too, before putting the one that should’ve gone onto the boy’s sore side down, resting onto neck instead. The other hand, however, did go on Sawamura’s head, far from the injury.

They both leaned forward, slightly. Uncertain lips met, timid as they made contact; the boys could feel the stranger yet welcomed warmth and humidity, breath slow and shallow, and Kuroo could faintly smell the copper in the other’s mouth; he didn’t mind, and it reminded him to keep his hand down before he could accidentally hurt Sawamura any further. 

Slowly, carefully, the kiss deepened, hands moving slightly as to bring the other closer to their own bodies. Sawamura dared to open his mouth a tad, and Kuroo didn’t waste time and let his tongue trail inside his mouth, letting his boyfriend do the same. Avoiding any sore spots, Kuroo began to slowly explore the young man’s mouth, and Sawamura mimicked him, albeit slow and unsure of what to do. Kuroo didn’t mind his clumsiness, so he let him experiment as much as he needed to.

Their noses scrunched and brushed only in the slightest, just as Sawamura began to tilt his head a bit, as to get a better angle. Once again, his boyfriend didn’t stop him, and quietly enjoyed Karasuno’s captain’s enthusiasm and curiosity. Kuroo found it adorable.

Finally, after a couple of minutes, Sawamura pulled apart, breathless despite the modesty of the kiss. His grin went from ear to ear, so Kuroo interpreted it as a positive sign. He smiled, too.

“How was it?” he asked, hands trailing down to rub at Sawamura’s knee.

“Great. Absolutely great. How did I do?”

The one with darker hair laughed, “I mean, I can’t give you a score, but you did amazing despite being new to this. Really. Next time, though, let’s have a slightly less bloody kiss.”

Sawamura blushed in the slightest, but chuckled, “Yeah, I agree. Also, I moved my jaw too much and it started to hurt again, so could you一 thanks.” he said, and grabbed the ice-pack that Kuroo had handed him promptly. “That was a weird first kiss, all things considered.”

“Weird, how?”

“I mean, it’s not something that happens daily, to kiss your partner while your mouth’s bleeding and right after you embarrassed yourself _and_ the other. An interesting combination of events, I must say. But I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“I have to agree with you on that, though to me it was perfect anyway.” Kuroo laughed. “I’ll go get the nurse to have her look at your mouth again, so be sure not to bleed out to death in the meantime, okay? I want to be able to kiss you again.” he said, and leant down to press a kid onto Sawamura’s nape.

Kuroo got up from the bed, but before he could step away, the other boy’s callous fingers were wrapped around his wrist with a delicate but convinced grip. “I’m about to say something.”

“...Okay?”

“But you don’t have to feel bad if you don’t think the same thing. I’ll be fine.”

The Nekoma’s captain gulped down, chuckling nervously, “J-just say it already, don’t be dramatic.” 

“Okay. Tetsu, I love you. Also, I’m sorry I delayed your bathroom break.” Sawamura said, rapidly too. The other blinked, bewildered.

“That was… definitely anticlimactic. The last part, I mean, not the ‘I love you’ stuff. I- I mean, not ‘stuff’, it’s important, I didn’t mean to say ‘stuff’!” he fretted, stumbling over the words, “I love you too! I think. I don’t一 I think it’s love, but I’m not sure. But I definitely, without a doubt like you more than anyone else, and in a special way, too. So I think that’s ‘love’? I一 I’m definitely ruining this, wow, I should shut up and一”

“Testu.” Sawamura called, softly, interrupting his boyfriend’s mumbling.

“Y-yes?”

“It’s okay. I told you, you don’t need to feel the same way. You saying that you like me ‘more than anyone else and in a special way’ is more than enough.” he breathed out, gentle and sincere, “It’s okay if you need more time, and it’s okay if one day you’ll realise that, maybe, love is something else. Maybe I will, too. But I want to enjoy the moment, and now, I know that you’re the one I love the most. And for me, that’s more than enough.” he finished, offering an understanding smile.

Kuroo’s face fell, ashamed. “I’m sorry I’m so slow.”

“You’re not! Nobody’s got the right to tell you that you’re too fast or too slow at elaborating your feelings. Take _all_ the time that you need.”

The other nodded, offering a shy grin. “Thank you. You’re the best. Can I get a hug?”

“Of course you can.” Sawamura laughed, and Kuroo flung himself into his arms, delicate but rapid in his movements.

These things took time, and the two boys were aware that they had all the time in the world. In addition to that, they also had each other, so no matter how long it was going to take because, without a doubt, it was going to be a pleasant journey of self-discovery and (maybe) love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in less than a week? And the fic's now over, nonetheless?  
> I can't believe that I've managed to write fifteen whole stories, albeit relatively short. I joined the Haikyuu fandom around July 2020, so it hasn't even been a year yet, but I've grown very attached to the characters, to the story and to the fandom as well! It's not as toxic as some others, and even if the community has its flows, like all of them, I'm very happy to be a part of it.  
> I want to thank each and every of you for your kudos, comments and for sticking around, it warms my heart to witness just how much you appreciated these little contributions of mine. I've already written a few other fics for Haikyuu (please, check them out if you haven't done that already), and I have at least six other WIPs for this fandom, though I continuosly get new ideas- if only I had more time, I'd write all day long, every single day.  
> Furthermore, I've recently (read: a month ago at most) joined the BNHA fandom and I already published a fic, so if you're into that please go check it out and let me know what you think. I already have two other WIPs for BNHA, but also for a few other things that I won't reveal just yet. SO MUCH TO DO AAAAAAAA!  
> Sorry for this endless note, you must be bored as hell, provided that anyone's reading this :')  
> Thank you again for having me and for being so patient and supportive, I'm beyond grateful!! I hope to see you all again soon, someday. Please, stay safe and hydrated.  
> You can follow me on Tumblr for updates and random stuff, my inbox is always open for possible requests and/or just to talk. Find me at [@theforgottendaydreamer](https://theforgottendaydreamer.tumblr.com/) !!  
> Until next time～


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